Warrior, Archer, Poet, and Scribe
by Rheniel
Summary: Time travel. Hermione, Harry, Neville and Draco are sent back in time. There, they have the chance to rewrite history, but not without sacrifice. When they've given everything, is it enough? Or will the Dark Lord reign more terrible than ever before?
1. Prologue

Neville Longbottom hated Potions class. Which, as the same was true of roughly three-quarters of the student body, was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, however, is that Neville was rather extrodinarily fond of the subject matter, and really quite good at it. Well, as long as a certain snarky, mean-spirited potions master was nowhere to be seen. This explains how Neville was in the NEWT level sixth year Potions class, having gained the required grade of "Outstanding" - in a subject he was universally known to be dismal in. It also explains, in a roundabout way, how any sixth year in a NEWT Potions class could confuse powdered Blackrose _root_ with powdered Blackrose _leaves_. It does not, unfortunately, explain why a professor would be intimidating a promising student into making a horrible mistake. Nor does it explain why said professor made no move to stop him.

One moment, Neville stood in the corner of the room, trembling under the gaze of the eternally malevolent professor Snape; the next, a fantastically reddish-black potion (it was supposed to be _blue_) was erupting upon Neville and the nearest students. Neville was hit first, and strongest. Professor Snape, to Neville's deep dissatisfaction, was pushed out of the way by Draco; one of only two people in the room with the reaction speed to do something. Even if he was the most unlikely person to ever see risk himself for another, he had done so, and he was actually hit worse than Neville himself. On either side of Neville, the other two at his table (the only house-members Neville had in this class) were hit nearly as much as he was. The only other with reflexes good enough to do anything, the second seeker in the room, had managed to react to the explosion in the seconds given. He could have used his phenomenal reaction time to dive for cover; could have, except that he didn't even think of it.

Always the hero, the boy was. Even more so since he'd been unable to save his godfather last spring. He didn't TRY to be a hero, at least not anymore. It wasn't the same as it had once been, a concious seeking out of adventure, of a chance to prove himself. It was the same action, in the end; it was the reason behind it that was so far different. No one noticed. Perhaps because the behaviour remained the same, or perhaps because they wouldn't understand it, even if they heard the words. The boy hero, the boy-who-lived, had made a very subtle but important paradigm shift. He no longer thought of others first because he cared more about them than he did for himself. He simply valued himself less than anyone else.

The difference is deep, fundamental. It is something many have failed to grasp over the course of the ages. A man may give his life for another, and have the sacrafice mean nothing, if he does not posess love. And no one can understand, can value another enough to love them, unless he can first understand, value, and love himself. Yet still, in the end, the action was the same; Harry Potter cast a shielding charm around the cauldron, expanded large enough that none of the potion already flying would be beyond it, yet small enough to keep the class from being contaminated. The class, that is, excluding Neville, Draco, Hermione, and himself.

Time seemed to stand still. Each of the four had a moments' contemplation after being struck by the failed potion, it was the endless sort of moment in time between when somethng catastrophic happens and when the consequences are felt.

Harry spared no time for thoughts of all the students he'd saved, he only thought of those who had been hit, hoping that the potion wouldn't kill them, or that, if it did, it would take him with it; he had no desire to wake again only to find the blood of another, or worst still, three others, on his hands. He felt badly for the injuries they would surely endure because he wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough. He felt even worse for half-wishing it would kill him, putting an end to misery, as his death would doom the world.

Hermione, the other Gryffindor hit by Neville's catastrophe, took the time to contemplate what the results of the accidentally-created potion could possibly be. When the potion hit, she'd been startled away from her own brewing, and recognized the powder in Neville's hands. The broad-ranging knowlegde she posessed enabled a quick assesment of the chemical and magical reactions. This potion, she knew, was meant to provide a glimpse of the immediate future; so immediate, that it was simply considered a sort of truth-revealing potion, able to show what would be (was) happening.

The potion was well known to Hermione, as it was at the forefront of research in time travel, a subject dear to her since the time-turner in the third year. The potion-brewer could either watch the surface of the potion to see a scene play out before him, or touch it and be transported to that event to witness it firsthand. Hermione remembered that the potion would show the most important event related to the potion maker, that would be (was currently) occuring. It was so important to time travel research, because, however miniscule the amount of time it traveled, it was the only known method of travelling forward.

Draco's thoughts were frighteninly similar to Hermione's, had either of them known. He had a more intimate knowledge of magical plantae, however, and knew that the roots and leaves of a thing typically had directly opposing results. Since Neville had added roots instead of leaves, the potion should provide a glimpse of the past. The problem was that Blackrose petals were already part of the potion. The flowers or fruits of a plant tended to have vastly amplifying effects when combined with the roots. The sort of vastly amplifying that could change a mild warming potion into an explosion that would level city blocks, or a potion meant to help one dream into a potion that brought ones' dreams into the realm of reality. Which is why, when he saw what Neville had done, he threw his godfather out of the path of the potion in exchange for himself.

An annoyingly Gryiffindor thing to do, true, but Severus was the only one who'd ever given a damn what happened to him. He'd given Draco honest answers when he'd asked questions about the Dark Lord, or about anything else. Instead of simply spouting pureblood propeganda, Severus had given him real, straight answers about muggles. He had always backed his answers with reasoning and logic instead of sensationalism or "because I said so", a thing for which Draco was profoundly grateful. Often times, Severus had even presented both sides of an argument, and told Draco he was old enough to simply see what was, and draw his own conclusions from it. Quite honestly, Draco wasn't entirely sure yet what those conclusions would be, though he knew he'd have to decide soon, as he came of age in two more months. He knew one thing for sure, though, and that was that he wasn't about to let his godfather die because of an idiot Gryffindor, which was most likely going to be the end result of this catastrophe.

Neville's thoughts weren't nearly so depressing as Harry's, or so analytical as Draco's or Hermione's. They were fairly simple. On the one hand, he'd managed to blow up a cauldron again. He hated when that happened, and he hated Professor Snape even more for encouraging it to happen. On the other hand, he was quite used to it, and at least this time the Professor would be suffering for his part in the accident, through Draco's misery, nearly as much as Neville himself would be. He was only slightly worried for his classmates and himself; after all, nothing he'd done before had resulted in anything worse than a visit to the hospital wing. He did wish, however, that Harry and Hermione hadn't been hit.

For each of the four, these thoughts were their universe at the time, even though these thoughts were only a mask for what was truly in thier hearts. Not one of them was truly worried about the consequences this accident would have upon themselves. In this, they were fundamentally the same. For each one, the analytical withdrawl from what was going on was merely a relief from a soul deep ache for something more than what they had. To the world, Harry was famous, Draco was spoiled rotten, Hermione was a perfect know-it-all, and Neville was the proud son of one of the oldest and best known wizarding families. In reality, however true these things were, they were only superficial. Neither fame, fortune, intelligence, or power could fill the place of love. In that endless moment, unknown to the four but no less important for being unannounced, each was bonded to the others by this sameness.

However endless the moment seemed, it did have an ending. An ending that was more final than any of them could possibly have guessed. Had they known, they would have feared. Not for their lives, nor exactly for the lives of their classmates and friends, but for something much more horrific than the loss of either of those things could ever be. For, in that moment, the world they knew simply ceased to exist.

Wizards, much as muggles, think they understand the way things interact in their world. The understanding in the wizarding world is as Draco thought it to be; combining the flowers and the roots of a thing in a single potion make it do the same thing only much stronger. This is only half the truth. While the combination does, in fact, make the intended result a great deal stronger, it also _purifies_ it. Or, rather, it purifies what magic percieves to be the intention of the potion as a whole. Magic is sentient, in this sense, able to respond in a way that isn't merely dependant upon the way things ought to be; that is, in the end, what makes it magic.

So it is, that magic saw this potion. A potion for time-travel slightly forwards, to the most important event occuring when you get there. Except that the direction of travel was reversed, and there was that root-petal combination. Purifying and amplifying. In the purest sense, or so magic saw, the potion was to link the potion brewer to the most important event related to the brewer. The other intent, the reversed intent, was to pick the important event from the past. Magic saw Neville, saw the timeline as a whole, and picked an event. Then, seeing the result, it amplified one last thing, and was complete.


	2. At First Glance

Apparently, the most important event in Neville's past was the moment his parents discovered they liked each other. Apparently, that is, because that's exactly where and when the four previously goop-coated potions students ended up. Fortunately, for our group of particularly shell-shocked teens, they discovered eachother in a nicely non-intimate way. Unfortuantely, it was in the middle of the great hall.

Breakfast, though the sleepiest meal of the day, was by no means quiet at Hogwarts. While most students at breakfast had a first session class, and while first session always began promplty at eight, students arrived and departed from the meal at widely varying times. This was not only due to personal habit, but also to the locations of classes. It may only take a few minutes to reach the classroom for section three transfiguration, but it took nearly fifteen minutes to reach greenhouse sixteen for section four Herbology. So it was actually somewhat of a surprise when a sweet, pretty Ravenclaw by the name of Alice Reynolds and a sandy-haired seventh year Gryffindor known as Frank Longbottom each stood up from their tables at the same time, accidentaly knocking into one another. Turning to apologize, they caught each others eyes, and both found themselves suddenly breathless...

_BAM. _

The sound echoed unbelievably through the suddenly deadly silent great hall. Four students, two of whom had bags at their feet, suddenly stood before the doors to the great hall, where no one had been before. The silence was the only thing more deafaning than the bang that preceded it. The strangers themselves looked shocked, to those close enough to see them anyhow. Two appeared to be older, a tall, muscular, white-blonde young man who seemed to be in his early twenties, and a somewhat shorter sandy-haired boy of about seventeen. A young girl and boy, in their early teens, stood beside the others, in robes that were far too large for them. All in all, it was the oddest group anyone thought to see.

The four students looked at each other. Hermione spoke first, though she was quite as shocked as the other three. "Well, this is unexpected" she said, looking around. It wasn't just the shock of not being in the dungeon when a moment ago she had been. They were standing in the middle of the great hall - but it also _wasn't_ the great hall. Firstly, and most obviously, there were at least three times as many students sitting in this room as there had been at lunch. Secondly, instead of house tables, there were apparently house _sections. _Thirdly, where she was usually met with a sea of black, for distinct colors of robes met her eyes. There were a thousand other differences as well, everything from style of robe to the lack of any visible muggle-style clothing to the fact that the students were almost certainly eating breakfast, when lunch had been nearly two hours ago. The most important difference, though, and the most frightening, was the fact that she didn't recognize a single one of the faces turned towards her. Until, that is, her eyes caught those of a perfectly right-looking Dumbledore, sitting in the headmasters' seat at the head table.

Unsurprisingly, it was headmaster Dumbledore who recovered first. Perhaps because he was the trusting type, though more likely because he was an accomplished Legillimens, he immediately determined that the strangers meant no harm and acted accordingly. "Ah, good morning, you have arrived earlier than I thought you would" he said simply, "we are currently at breakfast, but if you would be so good as to accompany me to my office?" Dumbledore stated, and stood, leaving the student population to draw its own conclusions for now.

The walk down the halls of Hogwarts, silently following the headmaster, passed unnoticed to Hermione. Her mind was deep within the world of the theoretical, trying to reason out exactly where they were and what was going on. The best possible answer seemed to be an alternate dimension, and she was mentally reviewing every text, muggle and wizarding, fiction and non, that she had ever read on the topic. She barely noticed that her robe was far too long, or that her skirt had become floor-length (the waistline had been spelled to adjust automatically, sort of like wizarding elastic), or that Harry seemed thirteen or fourteen, while Draco suddenly looked twenty-something. Neville was the only one she even looked at for more than a moment, to make sure that the potion didn't harm him, and he looked quite alright, even if something was a touch off. It wasn't until she was seated in Dumbledore's office, and Harry called her out of her thoughts in a voice that was, while familiar, very much not his own, that she was snapped from her musings.

Hermione was never slow on the uptake, and all it took was one look at her companions to piece everything together. The conclusion, however, had nothing whatsoever to do with interdimensional travel. Suddenly, a fascinating trip into theory became harsh reality, and three years of studying time travel brought nothing but grief to her just then. She looked to her three companions. Draco knew. He was being so obviously un-Draco-like that it was almost frightening, just sitting there, staring into space. Neville was clueless, too shocked simply by the abrupt change to have even the slightest idea what was going on at all. In that moment, she could only hope it wasn't her that would have to explain everything to him. Then her eyes fell on Harry. Harry was simply Harry. He wasn't shocked, or numb, or frightened. He was simply waiting, already accepting of whatever had happened this time... and he was waiting on her. Looking to her for the answer he knew she had. Which was far more frightening than all of the rest of it put together.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked to Dumbledore. She knew he would Legillimize her, and she intentionally made eye contact. At the forefront of her mind, she placed her request. Knowing just a bit about Occlumency, after Harry's failed attempt to learn it, she knew that he would see such a thought first. Surprise registered in the eyes of the man who Hermione had thought could never be surprised, but she took no delight in having been the one to finally surprise the old wizard. Then, slowly, she saw the memories play back in her own mind, sometimes stopping, sometimes moving faster, he analized everything from the incident itself to her loyalties to what she knew of himself. She only tried to shield events that would give away the future, though she did so half-heartedly, still shocked, still feeling distanced from everything. Finally, he withdrew from her mind, and as she slumped back into the chair, she heard him sigh.

"Hermione has shown me what brought the four of you here. She drew her own conclusions about where she was" at this, Hermione looked up hopefully "and she was, sadly, quite correct" Dumbledore finished quietly. Hermione put her head in her hands. She didn't want to hear this, she didn't. She didn't want Harry to hear it, or Neville, or even Draco. "You have traveled into the past. It is currently April the twenty fourth, in the year Nineteen Seventy Four." at this, Neville's head snapped up, and he gave a gasp. Hermione looked at Harry, who simply accepted this, and looked a question at her, a pleading sort of question, and she flinched as she met his gaze. "Hermione" Harry began in a whisper only she could hear "will we be able to..." he choked out. Dumbledore, however, saved her from answering the question just then.

"Let me first review everything, so that we are all on the same page. From what I gathered, the potion transported yourselves, and anything you were touching at the time, back through time approximately twenty two years. It is unheard of for anyone to travel so far back in time. There are two main reasons for this. Firstly, the further you travel back in time, the greater the amount of power required to do so. I, myslef, would barely be able to transport myself back five years, and doing so would leave me weak for days. The other reason it is unheard of is because of the duality principle, which basically states that there can't be two of a person in the same time. What generally happens, is that your age is averaged with that of the other "you", and you then spontaniously combine into one individual with all of the memories of "both", which are, for all intents and purposes, all the memories of the future "you". The problem is that no-one has ever traveled to a time before they were born, as no one has had the power to. There were three popular theories. One is that you would simply cease to exist. The second is that your age would remain the same as it was when you traveled into the past. The third suggests that you would age the same number of years as you traveled past your birth. The first theory can obviously be discounted, as you are here; the second could only be true in Neville's case. While there are other theories as well, I believe, as Hermione, that the third has proven correct."

"But professor" Hermione began, glad to at least have one flaw in her theory "wouldn't that make us all.. six or something?"

"Yeah" Neville echoed, still somewhat shocked "I mean, I think I'm about the same as I was before, professor Dumbledore"

"Not necessarily, " Dumbledore stated, looking to Neville "it appears that the amplifying effect of the potion worked in this regard as well. As the potion was made by yourself, it chose an age that was most suited to you in this time, the same age as your parents. The affect was then adjusted for the amount spilled on each of the others. I believe the potion approximately doubled the amount Hermione and Harry would have aged, making them twelve or thirteen, and nearly tripled the affect on Mr. Malfoy." At the sound of his name, Draco finally moved, looking up at the headmaster, a hollow look in his eyes.

Silence met this pronouncement, all of this was just too much for any of them to take in. Hermione regarded her companions sadly, unable, for once in her life, to think of anything much to say. A thousand questions were in her mind, but the resigned look on Harry's face, the blank look on Neville's, and the vacant expression Draco bore drove all comprehension from her mind.

"What will become of us, sir?" he asked, though he didn't look up, and his eyes never lost their vacant look. The others were shocked, as Draco had never shown respect to any teacher other than Snape.

Dumbledore took a moment to answer, considering those before him "I learned a great deal about each of you through Hermione's memories, and the first order of business here is to put yourselves at ease with regard to such things. You will each be provided what you need for as long as it is needed."

"Schooling, sir? The rest of our education will be financed?" Draco pressed.

"You can_not_ be serious, _Malfoy_, we've just lost... we've just... we... and you're thinking about _school_? And _money_?" Hermione snapped bitterly.

"You understand just as well as I do exactly what situation we're in, _Granger_" Draco bit back, "and someone has to think of the necessary things. For a know-it-all you certainly don't know anything about life." Draco turned back to Dumbledore, speaking sharply "Can I... will _we _continue with our classes?" Draco continued, looking like he was about to make a point that no-one would like.

"Certainly, my boy" Dumbledore responded.

Draco laughed humorlessly "And what grade could you possibly place us in? Surely no-one will believe that I am a sixth year. Neville could pull it off, and Harry and Hermione can go back to third year or fourth or even second and it will mean nothing more than a chance to take classes that are pointlessly easy and score ridiculously high. I, however, cannot do such a thing. And I am by no means prepared to take my NEWTs and find a job."

"We will work it out, Mr. Malfoy, I assure you. If nothing else, we will simply give you a de-aging potion and send you in with your peers" Dumbledore said, then continued in a slightly softer tone, "There are, however, other things we still must work out. While you are, as I said, more than welcome to continue your educations here, I have no expectations that you will be prepared to do so tomorrow morning, or even any day soon. For now, I suggest that you plan to take at least a few weeks to settle in. It is perfectly reasonable to wait out the end of the semester, and begin instead next fall. That is, in fact, the best solution available to us at this time."

Hermione, ever the practical one, immediately saw the flaw in this plan. "What about the Summer, sir? And money, and our books and robes and..."

Dumbledore cut her off "I already told you that everything would be taken care of. As for the summer, if no other arrangements can be made, you may stay here, though that is against the policy of the school. It is most likely that I will find one of the old families who will take you in." Hermione began to protest, as such a thing would cost ridiculous amounts of money "Many of the old families have estates that will more than accomidate four additional guests, and providing for a handful of students would hardly be a drain on their resources."

Harry, quiet until now, though not for shock as in Neville's case, asked the one question that truly weighed on his mind. "Sir" he began, quietly "these plans you are making. They seem very... how long do you expect us to... when do you think we will be able to ... to return to our time, sir?"

Hermione stood abruptly, crossing to the window, staring out into the drizzling rain that so often marked an April day.

Silence filled the room again. Draco sat back in his chair, one hand going to rub his temples, then dropping to his lap. Neville looked up, returning from whatever train of thought he was still following to get the answer to a question he hadn't yet given thought to.

Dumbledore met Harry's eyes, and gave the answer "Harry" he began, gently "there is no known way to travel into the future."

Hermione turned, slowly, away from the window, to face him, the tears in her eyes ecoing the soft rain beyond the window "We can't go back"


	3. A Place to Call Home

Hermione's words were punctuated by a resounding _thump_. Neville had, apparently, taken in all he could for one day. Hermione found herself envying him, even as the professor swept from behind his desk to check the fallen boy. Sleep sounded impossibly good just now, nevermind that it was mid morning. She dried her eyes and straightened, there were still a great number of things they needed to discuss. It was only a moment before Neville's woke again, and the professor pulled a corked potion vial from his robes and gave it to Neville before speaking.

"No need to worry" professor Dumbledore began "he is simply in need of a bit of rest, and some time to work things through."

Neville looked doubtfully at the potion, but drank it anyways. Immediately, he began to look a bit better. Hermione felt relieved, for a moment, until she looked at Harry. Not a bit of emotion showed on his face. Not pain, or fear, or even the distant sort of look that Draco wore. Simply nothing.

"Professor..." Hermione began, uncertainly. She was worried about Harry, and about Neville, but she didn't want them to feel she thought them weak. They weren't the only ones, though, as right now all she wanted was to close her eyes and block out reality with the freedom of oblivion. "Perhaps we should, er, take some time to absorb all this, before..."

"I quite agree, Miss Granger" Dumbledore immediately replied "Details can be arranged later; you are all in need of some rest. I want you all to take whatever time you feel you need to adjust to the situation. You will be given a set of rooms away from the rest of the castle, where you may remain, though you are by no means confined to them. I expect you to obey the same rules as are placed upon the other students with regard to when you need to be in your rooms at night. Which is to say; should you feel you must be out past nine, I expect you to be quiet about it." Dumbledore quirked a bit of a smile at that, and stood to his feet again. "And now," he said, helping Neville up "I will show you where those rooms are. Whatever other questions you have can wait for another time."

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Hermione was actually rather satisfied with the place that was to be theirs for the next few months. On the fourth floor, in an out of the way corridor that was situated rather centrally to the other houses, their rooms were not of any one particular house. They had a common room that was nearly half the size of the one they were used to for Gryffindor, but this was, perhaps, because these rooms were meant for more people than they had at present. The entryway to the common room was through a section of wall that looked perfectly ordinary to a casual observer, and was spelled to the touch. Anyone who belonged in the room would see that particular section of wall as glowing.

A simple touch to the wall and it would melt away, revealing a corridor with glass walls on either side. The corridor ended in a simple door with the Hogwarts' crest in gold on the front, that, when locked from the inside, could only be opened by touching one of the four house symbols. Each house symbol could only be keyed to one magical signature, however. There was a fifth possibility, touhing all four, but that was currently keyed to Dumbledore. Which worked out well, as there were four of them. Excepting that there were three Gryffindors and one Slytherin to situate. The problem had been simply solved, however. Dumbledore had explained that they simply needed to each touch all four panels in turn, and when they were done, the door would simply split them between the symbols as best as they matched.

The odd twinkle in Dumbledore's eye had unnerved Hermione. It almost made her think that he knew her secret - that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw to begin with, and only barely managed to convince the hat to put her in Gryffindor. If she hadn't been quite so concerned with her own plight, she might have noticed similar looks of trepidation on the faces of the other three. She might also have noticed that Dumbledore's smile seemed even more knowing than usual, as he explained that the rooms beyond hadn't been used since the time of the founders, but provided the most appropriate place in the castle for thier purposes; they were well guarded, nearly impossible to find without first knowing of them, impossible to break into, and far removed from the rest of the castle.

An unpersuadeable sorting proved the result Hermione had feared, but it also provided a surprise with nearly every one of her classmates. All four of them, one at time, had touched each of the four house symbols. Then Neville had gone first, placing his hand in the center of the four symbols, touching all four at once. No one was terribly surprised when he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Harry had gone next, repeating the process, and shocked everyone when the snake side of the shield lit green. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that there was no way Draco would be sorted into Gryffindor, and confidently went next. So it was a shock when she was sorted to Ravenclaw, after all. Stepping back from the panel, all she could do was stare at her hand, for a moment. She felt rather than saw Draco sweep past her, but she looked up in time to see the warm golden glow of the Gryffindor shield. They might have stood there all day, gaping at Draco Malfoy with his hand on the Gryffindor shield, if it weren't for the fact that Malfoy was the last in line, and promptly opened the door, stomped through, and disappeared through a door that had glowed faintly upon his entrance.

So, instead of an eternal staring contest with a door, the three exchanged a glance and crossed the threshold in to what was, at least for now, their common room. And promptly went slack-jawed again when they took a look around. The room was at least three stories tall, open to the peak of the roof, and had huge windows nearly covering the entire far third of the building. The door through which Draco had disappeared was in the right hand corner of the far wall. The door in the left hand corner glowed yellow, attracting Hermione's attention; she supposed that one was Neville's. She spun around, searching for her and Harry's doors, and took in the decorations as she searched. The place was decorated in all the house colors, each used in a way that was best suited to that color. The room could nearly have been outside. The floor of the room was stone, but it was barely visible under impossibly thick plush rugs made of silk. They were primarily brown and green, but dotted with delicate flower-shapes or intricate geometric patterns that were slightly sculpted into the carpets.

Turning all the way towards the direction she'd come from, Hermione picked out the doors she'd been seeking. She was overwhelmingly pleased to note that her corner of the room was almost entirely covered in bookshelves. It also had a much higher concentration of purples and blues than she'd noticed anywhere else. Always one for picking out patterns, Hermione began to notice the ones presented by this room. Right by the door to Harry's room, the colors shifted towards green and silver. In the area between the two sections, things blended nicely into turquoises with silver edgings, an effect she rather enjoyed. The "Slytherin Section" was impressive in its' own right, though, in true Slytherin style, was very subtle about being anything in particular. A set of maps was prominent, and a slightly more ridgid set of furniture could be detected. Still, though, it seemed very much an extention on the same theme running through the Ravenclaw "side".

The Gryffindor corner of the room contained all manner of games, and a number of cabinets chock full of sporting equipment. The Hufflepuff bit was simply cozy. The chairs and couches, and even the carpets looked unbelievably comfortable, obviously intended for relaxing. Wizarding photo albums, currently empty, were found on nearly every end-table or coffee table. Truly, though, there seemed little to differentiate between the two houses' "sections", just as there had been in "her" half of the room. The more significant divide, however, seemed to be between the two "halves" of the room. There was a fairly obvious studious side, contrasted by the lighthearted feel of the opposite end of the room.

In the exact center of the room was a table, with nine chairs. There was a single chair of gold and silver in one place, larger and obviously important, far grander than any of the other chairs. To the right of this chair were four chairs, the first nearly pure gold but highlighted in black. The next two were less fancy, and with less gold to them and more black as they continued around the circle. To the left of the central chair were four white, the first mostly silver, and each with less silver as the circle continued around. The two chairs nearly opposite the white chair were the simplest of all, white and black, and yet seemed more powerful in their simplicity. Each chair had a different color cushion, and a different inscription.

The first chair to the right had an orange cushion, orange but fantastically highlighted with gold and bronze colors, entertwining and seeming to be alight with a living fire; the chair-back bore the inscription fire. The first chair to the left of the central one, carried a blue cushion. Similar to the one at the right, it was interwoven with silver and dark pewter colors. When she had first caught sight of it, Hermione had been nearly sure the thing was made of rippling water; naturally, it seemed, the chair bore the inscription water.

The other chair cushions were far less fantastic than these, made of plain colors and appearing to be simply cushions; they lacked the feeling of an inner light, an inner life that the first two cushions posessed. The second-left chair bore the inscription wind, purple cushion; the second right earth, brown cushion. The third left cushion bore the inscription life, yellow cushion; the third right destruction, red cushion. The two chairs furthest from the cushion read darkness and light, darkness (the black chair) having, oddly, the white cushion. Light, though the white chair, cairred the cushion that was black.

The table itself seemed to glow. The table top was clear, perhaps made of glass, and it was supported by a gnarled, impossibly white shape that almost appeared to be part of a tree. The table-tree gave a sense of life, as though it was alive, the heart of something. It seemed the glow came from that life-force. Hermione searched for a light, but, though there was a skylight far above, the light seemed to come from within the tree itself. The place gave off a feeling of power, of perfection that scared her a bit, and, though she felt oddly drawn to the brown-cushioned chair, she backed away instead.

Turning, Hermione realized she was the only one in the room. She had, apparently, been the only one willing to search their new accomadations. The others had hardly left without good reason, however, and Hermione found herself compelled to do the same. Her focus snapped quickly back to the door that was still glowing blue, and she marched determinedly towards it. Determinedly, because it took a great deal of willpower not to investigate the bookshelves. And she was well aware of her chances of sleeping anytime soon if she did _that_.

Opening the door, she found herself looking at two staircases, one up and one down. The one went down, but the one up had a blue carpet. Obviously, she thought, the Ravenclaw color was for her. Reaching the top of the stairs, she foudnd a door, and a cooridor to the right; Hermione briefly wondered how many rooms this place had. It made perfect sense, though; the common room was obviously intended for a great deal more than simply four people. Perhaps this had been intended as a house of its' own, once, or... well, that made sense. Most likely, it had been originally intended for staff quarters. Hermione dismissed the corridor for now, as her desire for sleep was swiftly overcoming her curiousity; she opened the door into her room.

It was truly her room, decorated mostly blues, an odd mixture of down-to-earth and extravagent. It bothered her, a bit, as she'd always tried to ignore her inner Ravenclaw. She had always envied their house colors, though. And this room - it was exactly her kind of practical-but-sophistocated. The furniture was wood and soft fabrics, but done in such a way that it could be casual or classically sophisticated. The room was circular, from a tower; she supposed all the others had similarly shaped rooms at the four corners of their new living space. She even had a balcony, leading off from the left side of the room, that looked in the direction of Ravenclaw tower and the lake.

The balcony was furnished with comfortable-looking chairs and practical tables that must have been spelled to stay dry. Her balcony was hardly what she would consider "little", housing a decent-sized hot tub that caught her eye nearly immediately. As her balcony was on the furthest possible left in her room, it was tucked against the wall of the common room, in a direction facing towards the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff side. She cold see another balcony, this one seemingly in line with the corner, and saw the top of Draco's head over the back of a chair set upon it. _I wonder what he's thinking _she thought to herself _he certainly has been acting very un-Draco-ish. _But she shrugged it off. It was time and past she paid her new bed a visit, and perfect, puffy-white pillows were calling.

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The subject of Hermione's thoughts was quite busy with his own. The moment he'd landed in this time, he'd know what had happened. Perhaps he had matured mentally along with his physical age, as he hadn't spent more than a few thoughts for the petty rivalry between himself and his new... traveling companions. Or perhaps it was simply that the event had shaken him so badly his mask had fallen, and he hadn't yet even tried to retireve it. What, after all, is a Malfoy when he is no longer a Malfoy? For surely, even if nothing else worse occured in this time, there was no way for him to reclaim his title.

Worst of all, just when he'd thought he could settle himself in, chalk his behaviour up to emotional stress, and hope the Gryffindorks were to distressed themselves to remember much, there'd been that house re-sorting bit at the door. He'd known, in some deep way, from the moment Dumbledore had mentioned the foul thing, exactly what it would proclaim to the world. It was the exact same thing he'd been told by the sorting hat in parting, in a parting shot. Knowing exactly what was coming, he'd focused all his thoughts on Slytherin the moment he got near that hat, accompanied with a mental threat to the thing should it not place him in that house. In response, as the hat brushed the top of his head, even though the whole hall had heard Slytherin, he had heard only Gryffindor. He'd walked over to the Slytherin table anyways, expecting to be booed, or at least stared at, for defying the hat's orders. He hadn't found out until later that he was the only one who had heard as he had.

Which is why he was to be found in a tower that was distinctly Gryffindor in nature, and why he liked the exceptionally Gryffindorish room more than he had ever liked any room he'd ever been in in his entire life. It was also why he felt so distinctly unwelcome in a place that was so incomprehensibly _right_. The room was decorated in red, red which was highlighted in black, and gave off an indescribably warlike atmosphere, even as it felt... comforting, protecting. It was as though the room represented eveything within himself that he'd always wanted to be. It was... passionate, where he had only ever been allowed apathy. Fearless, bold, brave... Gryffindor.

It had only taken a few minutes in the room before he'd been searching for an out, it was a part of himself that he couldn't yet face. Draco was well aware, however, that returning to the common room would be not only uncomfortable but downright foolish. Should any of the others be there... Honestly, how could he explain to them, when he didn't understand what was going on, himself? His nearly frantic search for an escape had soon found the balcony off of his room, and he had all but flung himself through the doors into the realm that was no house at all. The furniture on his deck, though still having some of the bold essence of his room, was simple and black; bearable. There had, after all, been plenty of black at Malfoy mannor.

Draco had found that chair while Hermione was still gawking at the common room, and by the time she saw him from her balcony, he had been sitting there nearly an hour. He had been watching, for some time, a tower that was on the other side of the front of the... area that had been arranged for the four. He had seen the door in that direction light up yellow, and assumed that Neville would appear on that balcony. Enough time had elapsed, now, that he was fairly certain that the balcony within his line of sight was not connected to the other boys' rooms. It made some sense, he supposed, as the carpet that had lead in that direction - a corridor had headed off to his left at the top of the stairs - hadn't been hufflepuff yellow. A sigh that was both frustration and relief escaped his lips. Here, at least, away from prying eyes, he could sort things out; could think. It was odd, though, that there were more than four rooms to this place. There was a great deal more, he was sure, to this whole thing. Something was going on, in which the time travelers played a great part, yet of which none of them were aware.

Movement caught Draco's eye, and he groaned inwardly. Apparently he wouldn't be left completely to himself out here. He stood, striding over to the railing opposite where his chair had been, and looked for the source. Neville was, indeed, outside; it appeared, however, that the boy had a ground-floor room. Below the deck that Draco had noticed earlier was a patio, surrounded by a rather impressive garden, which was downright teeming with life. Curious, he leaned over the railing of his own balcony, and discovered a patio below. It was different from Neville's, however; it wasn't teeming with life. It was simple, stone and comfortable looking wooden chairs. Perhaps this was simply because no - one occupied the room at present.

Neville never looked up, and seemed not to notice Draco's gaze. As Draco watched, the other settled himself on a bench amidst the flowers and plants that surrounded the space that would be his for the next few months. Neville seemed at peace, there, and Draco wondered why the other boy had been a Gryffindor. _Perhaps_, Draco thought, _just perhaps, I wasn't the only one at that sorting fighting my true self._


	4. Forming Plans

Hermione woke to the pleasent sensation of having slept more hours than was strictly necessary. Not bothering to open her eyes yet, she reveled in the feeling of waking up with enough sleep, something she hadn't had a chance to do in what seemed like ages. It was odd, though, she thought with a frown; the room was dark, and there was something off about that darkness. _Where on earth..._

Memories of the previous day came flooding back, and her eyes snapped open. The room that had seemed so comfortingly hers the day before felt suddenly alien. A nights' sleep had, indeed, brought her over her shock and left her able to reason things through. Unfortunately, the clarity in her mind was currently unwelcome.

They had traveled backwards through time. They had traveled farther back than anyone was supposed to be able to. And, in doing so, she was quite certain they had irrevocably changed the future. So many things were uncertain, though. Because, if they truly had changed the future, then their future no longer existed. Were there, prehaps, alternate dimensions? That was the most comforting theory; that their time still existed somewhere, and where they were was simply someplace else. Hermione, however, wasn't prone to agreeing with a theory simply because it was comfortable. And, it seemed to her, the most uncomfortable theory was most likely the truth.

_What about the Duality principle, though?_ Hermione thought, _What happens when we're born? Will we simply never be born because we already exist? Or, is birth even the moment you begin to exist? Technically, when does a person become a person? Will we disappear from existance at the moment we are concieved? Will our age suddenly average with our infant selves when we're born? How will we age now that we're in the past - will we age the same, moving forward through time? Or will we not age at all, perhaps?_

None of these thoughts were particularly comforting. Granted, she realized, it may just be her currently dark mood, overshadowing her thoughts and bringing to light only theories that boded ill for the time travelers. Though it seemed, at least, that the time-displacement sickness bit was a lie - Hermione hardly felt ill. In fact, she felt better, younger, than she'd felt in years.... _Oh_, she remembered,_ I'm thirteen-ish again. Well, not really thirteen, I don't think, because I don't believe my maturity has regressed, but... then again, perhaps I wouldn't know if it had. _

A thousand questions, and each brings only more questions. But, does it really matter right now? I mean, the reasons are important, but our actions, for the time being, are more so. It really matters little which theory is correct. I see three possibilities. One, this is the past we know, and this has all already happened. In that case, no matter what we do, everything will turn out the same. Which is depressing, really, because I'd like to think we could do better than that, but at least it would mean we can't do any worse.

The second possibility that came to mind was the alternate universe theory. Not one to dismiss anything out of hand as a plausable explanation, Hermione concluded that, were this truly the case, there was no chance of them messing up the timeline. It would mean that they had a chance of saving the future of "this" timeline, and, better yet, that they might some day go home.

The third possibility was that they had simply and completely traveled back in time. That, upon leaving their own time, and arriving here, the "future" had ceased to exist. A time turner, as Hermione well knew, allowed a person to travel back in time in such a way that it allowed for time paradoxes and such the like; they were sorted out, simply, by magic. Even the top reasearchers of the time had no idea how such things were solved. But magic is sentient, and settles such things in its own way. Which is how a person with a time turner can truly be two places at once, or see their past or future self.

The device itself -the time-turner- was spelled to delay the folding of a person into their other self. It had been perfected, over time, to a useable thing. Originally, it had been unstable, sometimes the person would "meld" with their past self immediately, and sometimes not until the 'momen't their 'other self' traveled into the past. All such things were, simply, sorted by magic. When the additional ingredient had been added, it had changed magics' perception of the intention of the device, changing what using such a thing would do. It had given the witches and wizards working on the project the illusion of control over exactly what was going on.

Which was why they never could figure out how time travel could still have unpredictable results. Yet no matter how much logic they applied, no matter how strictly they regulated the use of the devices, sometimes, magic simply took a different interpretation. A paradox might be sorted one way one time, and another way entirely the next. The person traveling was protected, in a way, as carrying the time-turner with them at all times meant the magic was with them at all times, and was thus continually at its liberty to sort things as it saw fit.

Yet this time, the magic was no longer still with them. The potion had disappeared in the travel. They were no longer solely at the mercy of Magic, but were agian subject to the laws of the logical world. Which meant that any solution they could come up with would almost definately have to work within the confines of logic. In this case, that was unlikely to be a good thing.

Most importantly, however, Hermione was never one to waste time dwelling on the unchangeable aspects of life. _What we really need_, she realized _is a plan. A plan to get us back to the future, research to do, and a focus. Perhaps it will work, and we'll go back, but, even if it doesn't, the work involved in such a project should keep us busy until we've passed our immediate problems. And I have just the thing, and know exactly who to approach first. If I convince _him _the others will go along with it._

"Hermione?" came a youthful voice. _Just the person I wanted to see_ Hermione thought.

"I was about to go looking for you, Harry." Hermione said, forcing a bright and cheerful tone. _If this is going to work, I'd better make it believable. And to start, he can't think I doubt myself at all. _

Harry was truly puzzled. They'd just discovered that they had lost everything, and weren't going back. "Uh, Hermione, you feeling okay?" He'd gotten up, and almost immediately decided to go and comfort his friend. He had mostly expected to find her curled up, crying - or at least still asleep. What he had most definately not expected, was -

"Of course I'm fine. And I'm going to be even better when we get back." Hermione confidently declared.

Harry was left speechless. Denial was very unlike his ever-practical friend. Yet there was no other explanation; Hermione herself had told them all it was impossible. "I think you're, well, I mean... it isn't healty to... but you said... Hermione, you said we could never go back. You said there was no way to travel into the future."

"That isn't exactly what I said. I said there was no way to send us back to our own time." Hermione responded, hoping Harry hadn't been paying too much attention; in all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure what she'd said.

Harry ran a hand roughly through his hair. Sometimes, Hermione made him crazy "I fail to see the difference. And I really don't get how any of this is a good thing."

"The difference, oh unobservant one, is that there is no way to send us back _now_."

Harry was feeling even more lost... and was fairly sure that Hermione had just contradicted herself, though he wasn't quite sure how. "Still don't get it." He responded.

"It's simple. We simply take the future-traveling potion, and find a way to amplify it." Hermione declared, hoping such a statement was enough to make Harry ignore her earilier self-contradiction.

"Hermione. There isn't a future-traveling potion. There isn't a future-traveling anything. You've told me yourself, time and again, that future travel is impossible." Harry was feeling more lost than ever. Hermione had snapped, finally snapped. Harry could surely sympathise, but he hadn't a clue what to do about it.

"That's where you're wrong, Harry. In fact, the very potion we were brewing, the one that ended up sending us here, is the future-travel potion I'm talking about." Hermione proudly declared. She was quite sure that Harry thought she was nuts, just now. But if she could manage to convince Hary that they had a chance, the others would be easy. Or, rather, Neville would. Malfoy... Draco was a different story entirely. Though if he was convinced, he might be a great help in the research.

_So _that's _what Hermione's doing_, Harry thought. _ Well, at least it makes _some _sense_. "Hermione... look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but things aren't so far down, not yet, that I need false hope just to get me through. I mean, we might even have a chance to change things for the better, you know? Besides, I do pay _some_ attention in class, I'll have you know. I know what that potion is for... it can provide a glimpse of or transport the user to the most important event related to them at the time. It has nothing to _do_ with time travel."

"Actually, the Mudblood is right" drawled a voice from the doorway.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said, shocked "how long have you been there... and how did you get there, anyhow?"

If Draco was surprised at her reaction, he didn't show it. "Long enough to know that you might have someting, there. And not that I have to answer to you, but your screeching was interrupting my dinner."

Hermione didn't know whether to take offence, take the comment at face value, or wonder if the insult was a means of informing them that dinner was ready. She decided to take it as a dinner invite. If nothing else, it would give them the time to discuss this, with everyone a captive audience.

Harry, on the other hand, had more straightforward worries "You mean, there is a way to travel into the future?" Harry said, not bothering to attempt to mask the hope in his voice.

Draco, surprisingly, answered the question. Even more surprisingly, he did so without insult. "Yes. Well, sort of. That potion is the only known way, and it only takes you very slightly into the future. So very slightly, that most people don't even consider it time travel. I don't think it's even capable of sending you forward a whole second."

"Ten seconds is the record, that was the occurance where they discovered the time-travel property of the thing, they've been unable to come even close to the record since, and we should go eat dinner before it gets cold." Hermione stated, not even pausing to transition between the two topics. She flashed Harry a grin and was making for the stairway before either boy had caught up with her train of thought. "Coming?" she asked over her shoulder, as she passed the doorway.

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Neville was already seated at a table placed in the farthest part of the room from the main entry, in front of the huge window when they arrived. He smiled at Hermione, seeming about to say something, and then caught sight of Harry and Draco behind her. He arched an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Harry at Malfoy's apparent decision to join them for dinner, but fell silent. The huge window seemed mostly as a sheet of black glass, considering it was nearing midnight and in the middle of a storm, but then a lighting flash arched across the sky.

It was beautiful, truly beautiful, and for a moment the four simply shared in the sight. The feeling seemed to stay with them as they sat down to dinner. Dinner was quiet, but not in a depressing way. It was the silent appreciation of something greater than themselves, and none was immune to the feeling of barely restrained power radiating from the storm. The silence went unbroken, the soft clink of silverware on plates only adding to a feeling of rightness that pervaded.

As the meal ended, the spell of the storm seemed to fade, and the silence was ended by Draco's voice "So. About going back."

Surprisingly, Neville was the one to answer. "That is simply cruel, Malfoy." Was all he said, but it was simply stated, as though having everything ripped away from him had made Neville incapable of the fear he once had of Draco.

Hermione was surprised, not only by Draco's comment, but by Neville's as well. "Actually, Neville, it wasn't. We were discussing earlier - we may be able to go back after all. It will take a lot of research, and we'll all need to work together, but I think there's a chance. You see, the potion -"

Neville interrupted, snapping at her. "Potion. Well. In that case, I'll be going. I'd rather not get us into a worse mess, thanks." So saying, and before anyone could stop him. He stood from the table and exited through the door to his room.

Hermione was taken aback. Neville had never snapped at her before. "I didn't mean..."

"Hermione." Harry said. He felt bad for Neville, he really did, but if there was a chance of going back, he wanted to hear about it. "Give him time. He blames himself, and he's the only one who can grant himself forgiveness. Trust me, I know."

Hermione gave herself a small shake, returning to the topic at hand "So, right, well... as I was saying... we just need to do some research. We'll need passes to the restricted section, and a labrotory to work in. We should divide into tasks, I think. We'll need all of us if we plan on getting anywhere in a hurry. Perhaps one of the unused bedrooms here can be converted into a lab, though we'll need some different equipment; access to our own potions stores, or at least those of the current professor, is a must. I think it would be best if we had a way to get to and from the library unnoticed by students. A floo connection to the fireplace in the library might work, but then. Well, I don't know. We'll just have to talk to Dumbledore and work it all out."

Draco looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Granger, I hate to remind you, but you're _twelve_. There's no way, none at all, that they'll listen to you."

"Malfoy" she retorted, rolling her eyes "I'm not actually twelve. Just because my appearence has changed is no reason for them to treat me differently."

Draco snorted. "It doesn't matter what age you actually are. They won't be able to look past your pathetically innocent face. No one will take you seriously, they definately won't agree to giving you any kind of access to the restricted section, and they'll never even _consider _allowing you to have potions equipment like that. There's dangerous stuff you'd need - things that could easily be deadly, or used for the dark arts. I mean, c'mon Hermione, would YOU trust a twelve year old _child_ to such things? Even if you knew, intellectually, that they weren't twelve? _Especially_ seeing as Dumbledore is the only one who knows our true ages? And you can't honestly be stupid enough to expect to be able to tell people what really happened to us. Or to get them to believe you. Although, in fact, it would likely be far worse if they did. Imagine the Dark Lord's glee at discovering a person from the future, who can tell him exactly what to avoid, exactly what mistakes to avoid."

"Well, it's decided, then." Hermione said, as though everyone knew what exacty they'd been trying to decide "We're simply going to have to take an aging potion."

_Aging potion,_ Harry thought. _Sounds like a great idea, really. So why do I get such a bad feeling about all of this?_

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Meanwhile, had they only known, the four students were the talk of the school. It isn't every day, after all, that someone, let alone four people, mysteriously appear in the entry to the great hall smack in the middle of breakfast. Four boys, ever the ones for mysteries, excitement, and mischief, were still discussing the event, even at half past one. Two couches had been comandeered hours ago for just that purpose, in fact. Though the comandeering was hardly necessary.

For one, the common room had been empty for quite some time; as early as eleven, they could have chosen any seat they wished. For another, that particular set of couches was widely known to be "thiers", and no one messed with the popular group of fourth years. No one who didn't want revenge taken upon them - most often in the form of public humiliation - at any rate. The boys, now styling themselves the "Marauders", were famous for their pranks.

Remus Lupin, quietest of the four, had been the one to come up with the name. Though he had done so quite inadvertantly. Early last year, Sirius and James had, as per usual, done something completely foolish and not some small amount dangerous. Whatever it was had earned them a tongue-lashing from their normally silent friend, who had lectured them on the dangers of "marauding about". For whatever reason, Sirius had latched on to the word, deciding it suited perfectly. Which greatly surprised Remus, as he hadn't thought his friends were listening in the least.

Which, upon questioning, they admitted they hadn't been.

Just as they weren't now, in the midst of his discouragement for their current plan. Which is why he chose to end it then, saying simply "You can't just go looking for them."

That seemed to catch at least James' attention. "Why not, Rem? It's a brilliant plan." He said, sounding actually curious as to what his friend had to say.

Remus Lupin shook his head. He'd been trying to explain 'why not' for the last half hour. Though James appeared to be listening; perhaps there was some chance. "Let me put it simply. One: they may not even be in the castle. Two: even if they are, they may well have good reason for not being about. Not to mention that Dumbledore's no slouch, and if he wants them hidden then they'll hardly be easily found. Three: there's - "

"Remus, you're missing the point." James interrupted. "If they're hard to find, all the better! I mean, it's not like we'll get caught, we've got the cloak. And even if we don't find them, it'll be a marvelous bit of adventure, and an excellent chance for you to work on that pet project of yours."

Remus sighed. James would bring that up. The creation of a map of the school had been entirely Remus' idea; somewhat in hopes of keeping his friends out of trouble, Remus had was fascinated by the subject for the sheer intellectual joy of discovery. And with Hogwarts, there was just so much to discover... secret passageways, hidden rooms, rooms that were there sometimes and gone others. If anything could get Remus to agree to a plan involving night time wanderings, that was it. Something which, obviously, James was willing to make full use of.

Sirius tried his best to persuade his recalcitrant friend "Rem, come on... I'll... I promise to look up that spell you wanted for locating a person on the map. And I'll... we'll... do all our homework for a whole week. And turn it in. On time, even." Seeing his ploy wasn't yet working, Sirius put on his best puppy-dog look... "Pleeeeease?"

Remus couldn't help but laugh, as he caved. "Oh, fine, we'll go. But only this once."


	5. Potions

Hermione had been in the Potions lab for the last three hours, at least.

Never one to put off until later what could be done now, Hermione had insisted on starting the aging potion immediately. By morning, she and Harry would be returned to their appropriate ages. Well, closer, anyways. The maximum dose for a twelve year old only aged them two years. Fourteen, however, was much better than twelve when trying to get someone's attention. Hermione thought it was enough to be believed. And, if not, they could take a second dose two weeks later. With such time constraints, though, it was best to start now.

Honestly, she was worried. It had crossed her mind, certainly, that no-one would take them seriously, would be able to see behind their appearences. But it wasn't until she took a good look at Draco, until she saw the scorn in his face, the face of someone "older" than her. In that moment, she realized that even she was decieved by appearences. She was taking him more seriously because he appeared to be an adult. She had known him for six years, knew he rarely formed an intelligent opinion on anything, and she was certainly was aware of how little intrest he had in her well being. Which is why, when she found herself respecting his council, it made up her mind: aging potion, as soon as possible.

Though it had other good effects, as well. Such as that, looking more like themselves, it would help the time-travelers to feel more like themselves. Hermione knew what a delicate situation they were in, how easy it would be for any of them to break down. She couldn't really decide who she was most worried about.

Neville seemed almost happy. If it was genuine, then she wondered what could have possibly have been bad enough to make this seem good. More likely, at least in her mind, was that he was in shock, or was simply covering his true emotions. Even if he truly wasn't in shock or faking it, it was obvious that he blamed himself, for the others' circumstances. This, by itself, was enough to worry Hermione. When she'd glanced his way during dinner, she'd caught him staring at the others with an expression of pain and self-loathing. If she wasn't so worried about so many things, she might have spent tonight trying to talk him out of his shell. Hopefully, he wasn't so upset that he'd try to harm himself.

Draco was another story entirely. He was, quite obviously, still in shock, and incapable of his normal aristocratic mask. In fact, he was acting quite contrary to his usual hostile nature, seeming to be almost protective of their group. It seemed that even Draco himself seemed somewhat fooled by the image of their age changes; while he wasn't treating them as children, he was taking the situation as seriously as any "adult" in such a situation.

Perhaps it was because she was closest to him, but Harry had her the most worried. He'd faded into the background so well that she'd missed his initial reactions to the situation. Now that the shock had worn off, he had successfully buried his feelings behind his mental shields. His eyes had an odd look to them that she'd learned to recognize, as though there was a translucent shield between him and the outside; he was making use of his Occlumency training.

There seemed no hope in actually getting him to tell her what was going on, either. Harry had been nearly completely silent. When he had responded, he'd spoken in a tone that was oddly both biting and immensely sad. It seemed as though he were fighting inner demons, and Hermione hadn't a clue what those could be. _Perhaps it has something to do with our "sorting". _Hermione thought to herself. _It would be disturbing to be sorted into Slytherin, especially having been chosen for that place over someone actually from that house. Though, really, it doesn't exactly take much to be more cunning than Draco Malfoy. She snorted. Honestly, if it hadn't been Harry, I think I might have been the next most likely candidate._

A strong, sickly sweet smell knocked Hermione from her reverie. _Oh, _NO! She thought, spying the neon green contents of the cauldron, then the un-ground ones of the morter and panicking_. I forgot to add the hickory bark! _Her hands nearly flew as she ground the bark to dust, and added it into the potion. One moment of anxious waiting later, the potion chaned to a calm blue color, and the smoke disappeared. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, it wasn't ruined. _I need a break _she thought,_ the potion needs to simmer for three and a half hours. It's good timing, though; I'm so distracted I could easily make a horrible mistake. She rolled her eyes. I'm supposed to be the logical, cool-headed one. The stress of this mess must really be getting to me._

Five plus years of potions classes ingrained the necessity to clean up before taking a break. Hermione carefully tucked her supplies back into a perfectly-organized cabinet that held nearly every potions ingredient or tool imagineable. She seriously doubted that even Snapes' private lab was so well stocked. It was really a phenomenal find, this room. Harry had brought her here after her announcement, having discovered the room the previous night.

_After seeing the contents of this room,_ Hermione thought, glancing about to make sure all was in order _I doubt we'll even need anything that hasn't already been provided. It nearly nullifies the need for making this potion; having seen this place, I suspect that the library is nearly as thouroughly stocked. Really, I need to do some exploring; who knows what other impossible, wonderful rooms are hidden in this place? And first thing _she grinned to herself gleefully_, I'm going to go through every book in that library. _

The cleaning finished, Hermione left the room. Turning, she sealed the door behind her with a charm that, while fairly easy to break, would leave behind the magical signature of anyone who did so. The place was big enough that, despite Dumbledore's assurances, Hermione wasn't quite confident that no one else (or nothing else) inhabited the space. After all, she couldn't imagine so much space simply wasted.

The potions lab was situated off of a corridor that stretched to the left of Harry's room. There were doors, leading to small, efficient, two person dorm-style rooms stretching the length of the corridor. There was housing enough, in just this corridor between Harry's room and the Potions Lab, for at least two dozen people. This seemed somewhat confirm Hermione's idea of staff quarters. It was mentioned in Hogwarts, a History that the castle was originally intended to house and educate many times the number of students as it did at present. Apparently, the number of those born with magical powers had declined drasticly; this was what had preceded the pureblood dislike of mixing with muggles.

It had been a topic of much interest for Hermione, being something that hit so close to home. Throughout her years of school, she had done as much independent research as she could manage on the topic, discovering many things that assured her. While the decline of magic had originally been blamed on mixing with muggles, later research disproved the theory. The most obvious proof was that, should magic really be passed through bloodlines, a true "Muggle-born" would be impossible.

The theory that made the most sense was that, in fact, magic had never really declined. Every person, according to the theory, was born with some magical capacity. The theory, called the Inherent Capacity theory (for obvious reasons), stated that what had actually declined was magical understanding. The theory also said that, with the continuing belief that magic could be used like an equation, move your wand this way, say this, do that; the results of the spells themselves had become less powerful. According to the theory, a wand and an incantation were originally meant only as a focal point for a witch or wizard, and that the actual magic was done by intent, by the concious extention of their own magic into the magic that surrounded them. The conclusion was that magic was truly driven by a deep understanding of the world, and the loss of this understanding had driven the decline. Because of this, only those with what would once have been considered an incredible magical ability and an inherent understanding of magic were actually be able to wield magic.

Really, though, none of that mattered at present; it was break time. It would be three full hours before the potion was ready, and Hermione'd had all she could take of dungeons for now. No matter that the dungeon she'd been working in was a far sight more... welcoming than the Potions classroom, it was still a dungeon. Still stone, still darker than she'd like, and still far too enclosed for a mind tortured by uncertainty. She needed room to think, someplace farmiliar enough to be comforting, yet where she'd be left alone to sort things out. My best bet, Hermione thought, is a walk through the caslte proper. At this time of night, if I stick to back staircases, I should be left to myself.

Intent on avoiding the others for the time being, Hermione turned in the opposite direction of Harry's rooms. She had a sneaking suspicion regarding this corridor and a certain staircase that lead down from the one to her rooms; if she was right, it would be her ticket to the peace and quiet she sought. Hermione was pretty sure Harry was still pacing, and even more certain that he would disapprove - strongly - of her current plan. _I really do wish I could help him_ she thought, _honestly, though, I need to sort through this on my own right now._

Hermione found, much to her satisfaction, that the corridor ended in a staircase. The rest of the hallway had been a mirror image of the first half, full of dorm-style rooms, though she didn't peek in every door. She crept quietly up the carpet of the stairs, still wary of alerting anyone else to her intentions, and was relieved to find the common room empty. The slight feeling of guilt from sneaking out was overwhelmed by the giddy feeling of freedom as she slipped out the door, and into the castle.

Nearly two hours later found Hermione tucked into her favorite little niche in the corridor one floor down from the entrance to Gryffindor tower. No matter how public the area had a tendancy to be, there was almost no chance of anyone being there at five in the morning. She also knew, from years as a prefect, that teachers didn't patrol this part of the castle, specifically because it was so public. That, and it didn't have any of the things to draw one to it that the other public areas of the castle had.

It was without the door to the outside contained in the great hall, or the ability to wreak havoc on ones' peers available in the great hall, or the lure of food of the kitchens. The only thing the place had to offer was a study nook, complete with comfy window seats and a great view. Simply put, Hermione had discovered the art of hiding in plain sight. It was the only thing Hermione did on her own to break the rules. It was worth it, though, as she watched the sunrise. It was coming up on six, now, and it was nearly time to go back and take the potion. No matter how many times she saw this scene, watched the day begin, she was still captivated by the view. And she'd been coming here since third year. More than three years she'd retreated to this spot when she needed to think.

Which is why she wasn't too surprised when she saw the foot, seemingly sitting by itself and unattached to any supporting structure, not four feet from her. Six years of Harry watching out for her in his Invisibility Cloak had taught her not to be startled by such things. Honestly, he's so over-protective sometimes. The first time he'd found her here, he'd been wearing the cloak. For years now, though, he'd simply come as he was. If he was using the cloak, he must think she was upset with him, or that she was so distraut she'd mind even his company.

"Harry, honestly, you didn't have to use the cloak." She was met by silence. Obviously, he didn't realize he'd been found out. She stood up, stared right at where the face belonging to that foot must be and incanted Accio invisibility cloak.

And found herself staring straight into the visages of a young James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black.

For an instant, just an instant, Hermione considered screaming their fates to them. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could save them from the horror their futures held. For an instant after that, for the first time in her life, she contemplated killing; killing Peter. Then she saw the honest, startled look in the eyes of the fifteen-ish year old boy, and was horrified by her own thoughts.

A wave of fear such as she had never known overcame Hermione in that instant. Fear not only of herself, or even of her thoughts, but of the future, of the incredible amount of power suddenly in the hands of herself and her friends. It was a fear so intense that it burned through her veins and left her shaking, unable for a moment to do any more than quake in fear.

And then the moment passed, and Hermione Granger, level-headed Gryffindor, panicked, turned, and ran.

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Hermione had been in the Potions lab for the last six hours, at least. And the entire time she'd been there, Harry Potter had been pacing the ground, worried. After initially being kicked out of the lab for hovering while Hermione worked, he'd contemplated paced outside the lab door. Knowing he'd bother her if he was too near, he'd moved his pacing to the common room.

Harry felt he was doing the best out of the group. The only truly bad things about what had happened - well, actually, there _were _alot of them, but bad things - especially near-impossible ones - were hardly a new concept for him. To be quite truthful, had their group simply included Ron, he wouldn't even bother mourning the lives they left behind. Sure, there was the whole Slytherin-resorting thing, but so? It's not like it was new information, even if he would rather have kept that little tidbit from his friends. No, not his friends. Only Hermione was here. He'd never see Ron, not the same Ron anyhow, again.

_C'mon, Potter, _he reprimanded himself, _you have a lot of chances to make a change. Stop being so selfish. Besides, there are others here that you know. I mean, Sirius is alive, here, and Voldemort isn't at full power, and there is no prophecy, and ... my _parents_, my parents are here. I might even meet them. I wonder where they are, or what they're doing right now? I wonder what they'd do if they met me. Wait, what year is it? How old are they?_

Pivoting, he started back across the carpet. His mind pivoted topics at the same time. Hermione. Hermione was there, was with him. Harry would never choose between his friends, but, in the current situation, he could be glad that Hermione was there. After all, if there was any way back, any way at all, Harry knew she'd find it. Although he had more than somewhat of a suspision that the whole project was simply make-work, to keep their minds occupied until they could fully handle the reality of their situation. Even if that was the case, he agreed with her. For now, he would let himself believe there was a chance. He needed to. At the moment, though, he just wished the aging potion would hurry up.

"She's been down there for ages." Harry complained, then winced at the childish, whineing tone. Right that moment, he felt very much the twelve year old he appeared. "She really should be done by now. What's taking so bloody lo-"

The door opened, right in front of him. No one should have been coming in that door. Not the door to the dungeons, the door to the main part of the castle. And most of all, the person coming through that door shouldn't have been Hermione. But it was. _This is just too much_. Harry mentally ranted. _I can't believe she left and didn't tell me. And how in hell did she get out of there without me noticing? _She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, panting. He was just about to begin ranting out loud, when Hermione interupted him in a rush.

"Come on, Harry, it's done." she said, breathlessly, shoving away from the door and dashing towards the downward-leading stairs. "The sooner we take this potion, the sooner we can start the real work."

She didn't think he would hear, but Harry caught her adding, under her breath "And the better the chance we get out of here before one of us does something drastic" Harry couldn't help but feel that was the oddest thing he'd ever heard her say. He was truly curious what she'd seen or heard that had driven her to such statements, or such a flurry of activity.

It only took a few moments, despite the long corridor, for the two of them to arrive at the Potions Lab. With a flick of her wrist, Hermione had the wards disabled. She was through the door before Harry had even seen her draw the wand. What is going on? Harry wondered, staring at the door as though he'd never seen one. Something must have happened. I've never seen Hermione so flustered. By the time he entered the lab, Hermione had the cauldron off the flame, and a dose of it in her hand.

Harry froze. Something in him screamed wrongness. It was like there was something, something he understood about the interaction of the ingredients, something that souldn't be, that wasn't right. It was almost as though he could see the magic in the potion, and see Hermione's aura, or perhaps, more exactly, her magical essence. And there was something about those two things, seen together, that was just... off. Very off.

"Hermione, stop!" He yelled.

Hermione almost dropped the vial in surprise. "Huh?" she said, in an uncharachteristic lack of eloquence.

"Don't drink it" Harry said, still sensing the wrongness.

Hermione lowered the vial "Harry... I know I made it correctly. And the ward on the door would have told me if anyone had come in here to tamper with it. There's no need to worry"

The sense of wrongness had faded drastically when Hermione lowered the vial, leaving Harry feeling somewhat akward for second-guessing his friend. "I, Hermione, it isn't that, there's just... something..."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, in a frighteningly Malfoy way.

"I know I'm being ridiculous. You can make fun of me all you want later, I swear." No matter how faded the feeling, Harry was going to trust his instincts. They'd saved him so many times in the Magical world that ignoring them now would be just plain stupid.

"Please, just for me" Harry said. "You can have the rest later, just... will you please take a smaller dose? One year older should be enough to notice, in a twelve year old. Just to make sure. If nothing happens, I swear, you can drink it all and turn yourself fourty if you want."

"But Harry"

"Please, Herm. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh, for heavens' sake, I'll drink it" Draco said from the doorway. Harry hadn't noticed him until he spoke, but his immediate reaction surprised him. Instead of the usual animosity, Harry felt oddly relieved. Then he felt guilty, for being relieved that someone other than Hermione could take the risk.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, getting his opinion. When push came to shove, she trusted his instincts, too.

Harry nodded. "Fine." He said. He wanted to say more, to thank the Slytherin for taking the risk, or to caution him, or something. But the longtime animosity stood in the way of saying anything else.

Draco didn't respond, he simply grabbed the goblet from Hermione, and downing all of it in one gulp.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

Draco was sixteen again.


	6. Group Bonding

"That has to be the wierdest thing I ever saw." Sirius Black said, staring at the space that had been occupied just a moment before.

"Siri, coming from you, that's really saying something." Remus replied, more than somewhat shocked himself.

"Did you guys see the look on her face?" James asked, "and who's Harry, why does she expect him to be invisible, and why does... how did... er... does anyone else get what just happened?"

"I wonder what scared her so bad?" Peter said.

"I think she caught sight of your face, Pete" Sirius teased, "she only really freaked out when she saw you."

Peter blushed, and muttered something inaudible.

Remus snorted, "I sincerely doubt that was it, Siri, she looked downright horrified. Besides, if anyones' face would have scared her off, it would have been yours, Black."

"Why you!" Sirius growled playfully, punching at Remus, who dodged easily, grinning.

"At least we found what we were looking for" James said "She's definately the girl from the feast. Wonder what she was doing wandering about."

"Well, only one way to find out." Remus said.

James and Sirius both looked to Remus in shock. James recovered first "You can't seriously be suggesting we break rules, Moony."

Remus rolled his eyes. "We're already breaking rules. And, honestly, after that... whatever that was she did, who wouldn't be curious?"

"Are you guys sure we shouldn't be getting back to bed?" Peter questioned, obviously tired, and not the least bit curious.

Sirius grinned at him. "'Course not, Pete. Not when ol' Moony's finally up for a bit of adventure."

Peter, however, had no wish to be swayed. He didn't want to risk angering his friends, as there were few who would put up with him, but he was dead tired. So, for once in his life, Peter Pettigrew made a decision for himself. It was, perhaps, the worst possible time for him to have done so. Or, perhaps, the best.

"Um, guys? I'm really, really tired. I think I'll just, well, I'm going to go to bed." he stated the last bit with finality.

The other three were surprised by the determination in the voice of their usually quiet companion.

"Sure, Pete. You need the map?" Remus said, a hint of pride in his voice. He'd been trying to get the other boy to be more assertive for the past five years. _Honestly, if a _werewolf_ can feel secure in this group of friends, Peter ought to be able to. He'd do a lot for himself if he'd stop being afraid that we'll ditch him over the slightest thing._

Peter shook his head as he turned to leave, but then turned back a second, searching for approval from James and Sirius.

Sirius grinned, "Alright then, but don't blame us if you miss out on all the fun!"

Peter turned to James. James looked a bit disappointed, but nodded and waved Peter off. Looking relieved, Peter walked off, heading for Gryffindor tower and bed.

After a moment, James shook himself, and exchanged a grin with Sirius - the kind of grin that meant trouble.Remus, for once, shared the mischievious grins of his compatriots. Reaching a wordless agreement, the remaining three Marauders grouped together. James reached for the cloak, and nodded to his best friends. With a swirl of fabric, they were gone.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Half an hour later, the sense of adventure had nearly gone from the situation. The map was, for once, nearly no help at all. Aside from keeping the three out of the path of the teachers, there was little information displayed that could aide their search. That was the problem with not knowing the name of the person you were searching for. Though they did know that one of the newcomers' names was Harry.

Apparently, the mysterious girl had retreated to wherever she was supposed to be, because no-one appeared to be roaming the halls. They'd considered searching the castle name-by-name, but they didn't know the name of every person in every year who attended the school, and they'd be almost as likely to end up chasing down some random female ghost as anything else.

It was Remus, as often happened, who came up with a way to find the girl. A spell he'd found allowed them to use their wands like compasses, pointing in the direction of their goal. There was only one problem; it had lead them to a wall. A bare, boring, featureless patch of wall.

"Maybe I remembered the incantation wrong?" Remus said, puzzled.

Sirius snorted "Not likely, Moony. I don't think I've ever heard you say a spell wrong."

"First time for everything." Remus said, though he, too, seemed to doubt he'd been wrong.

"Where can she be, then?" James asked, focused more on the mystery of the girl than on what had gone wrong with the spell.

Remus shrugged, but just as he was saying she might have left the castle, and that this wall faced in the direction she'd gone, she came running right at them - through the wall. The three teenage boys were too shocked to even move, so it was good that she was obviously too distracted to notice them, especially as they no longer had the invisibility cloak on. Right at her heels, also appearing through the seemingly solid wall, were two boys - one they recognized as one of the mystery guests, and a blond one who might have been the oldest boys' little brother. All four were running as though their lives depended upon it, looks of varying levels of anxiety upon their faces, all bordering on panic. They were completely oblivious to the the fact they'd just been seen. Or that they'd given away the entrance to their quarters.

"This night just keeps getting wierder" Sirius said. "I think _that_ is now the wierdest thing I ever saw."

"You know, Siri, this time I think you're right" Remus responded. "At least I know I had the spell right."

"Congratulations, Moony." James said, then snapped, impatiently "but if the two of you will stop standing there gaping at the wall, we might just be able to catch up to them and get some answers."

Remus grinned at his friends' impatience "No need to hurry, James" he said, and spoke the compass spell again.

It didn't take long for the three to realize that their quarry had set off for the headmasters' office. They were too distracted to check the map for the name of the girl or her companions, in fact they didn't use the map at all as they snuck quickly through the corridors. They were moving faster than they normally would have on a late-night escapade, but curiousity was driving them past the point of prudence. It didn't take them long at all to reach the stone guardian of the headmasters' office, but they were surprised to find it still moved aside. Surely, the other three teens must have passed this way long enough ago for the passageway to have re-sealed itself.

Shrugging it off, and counting it for good luck, the three teens crept onto the staircase. Just as they reached the top landing, they heard a grinding noise. Whirling to look behind them, they discovered the staircase receding, and the stone guardian once again blocking the way. They were trapped, there was no way back until the occupants of the room decided to leave. Exchanging a shrug, they decided they might as well eavesdrop since they were there. Pressing their ears to the door, they heard the voice of the headmaster, oddly not the least bit tired-sounding, even so early in the morning.

"So, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. What can I do for you this morning?" Came the voice of the headmaster.

James started "Did he just say Potter?"

The other two immideately shushed him, fearing being caught before they'd had a chance to hear the story behind the mysterious strangers. They would obviously be caught at some point, and subsequently punished; they just wanted to get something for all their trouble.

"Professor Dumbledore, we have a problem. A huge problem." Said the girl, in a voice that somehow didn't sound twelve at all. "Draco just took an aging potion, and it made him younger. Years younger. And I'm absolutely certain I made it correctly."

The three boys exchanged a glance, and settled to the floor outside of the door. This was sure going to be interesting, if nothing else. And with their means of retreat closed off, they certainly weren't going to be leaving any time soon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry, Hermione, and Draco had run straight for the Headmasters office after Draco's startling reaction to the potion. They hadn't stopped to discuss it, or to try and work out a plan of action, or even gone to get Neville. They had simply run for the only person that might have some answers for them; Dumbledore. If anyone had even a clue as to what was going on, it was him.

They expected the Headmaster to have the answer to everything, expected him, in fact, to be unsurprised by this new development. Which is why it shouldn't have surprised them to find him waiting for them, quite wide awake despite the early hour. Shouldn't have, but it did.

As she took a seat across from the professor who was unconcernedly offering her a lemon drop, Hermione spared a thought to be amused at the headmasters' seeming omniscience. _Honestly, nothing surprises that man. You would think we'd be used to it by now._

A pale golden glow seemed to suffuse the headmasters' office, giving it an almost etheral quality. It seemed, suddenly, as though there problems were inconsequential, fading to the background with the comforting presence that was positively radiating calm. Yet somehow, the light was more than sun streaming through windows; it was inexplicably intertwined with Dumbledore himself. Drawing strength and composure from the light, Hermione spoke, feeling much more like an adult than she had since she'd first seen herself with the visage of an eleven year old.

"Professor Dumbledore." Hermione began, determinedly. "We have a problem. A huge problem. Draco just took an aging potion, and it made him younger. Years younger. And I'm absolutely certain I made it correctly"

"I see, Miss Granger. Do not worry, I am sure the potion was well made indeed. I do, in fact, know the reason for young Mr. Malfoy's reaction to such a potion. May I ask, however, why you felt it necessary to brew such a thing, and from where you got the ingredients?"

Hermione immediately felt foolish. Who knew how old the potions ingredients were that she'd been using, or where they'd come from. For all she knew, they could have been ingredients tested to be insuitable and stored in that room since the very founding of the school. Suddenly she felt very much the eleven years she looked.

"I'm sorry, sir, we just... that is, I just... Well, I didn't feel that anyone would take us seriously if we appeared to be eleven, and, well, we had a bit of a row over it, and then... when Harry showed me that potions lab I didn't stop to think. I just sort of...well, I didn't realize there might be something wrong. That is, with the ingredients. And when I saw James and Sirius and P-Peter, I couldn't even think to -"

Dumbledore interrupted her. "Miss Granger, do you mean to say you saw Misters Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew yesterday evening? I assure you, while curious, they are certainly trustworthy."

"Well, no, I mean yes, I -er - I saw them this morning, professor. And I would trust them with my life. Well, most of them. Or, at least, I'd certainly trust Professor Lupin - Remus, that is, even at his younger age."

"Sirius is perfectly trustworthy, Hermione" Harry said, defensively "He's just a bit more rash than you are. Which is certainly no surprise, as nearly everyone is. And my father -" Harry stopped, remembering what he saw in Snape's pensive last year. He wasn't entirely sure what to think of his father, anymore. Yet Harry certainly didn't want to share that information, not just now, anyhow, so he simply fell silent.

"I didn't mean it that way, Harry." Hermione said, apologetic. "But, really, trusting them wasn't the issue, it was just seeing them, knowing them in the future, what they're like and what happens and all, and then seeing them in the middle of a corridor tonight, it, well, it threw me off a bit, and I wasn't thinking. What I mean to say is I shouldn't of used the lab without asking, and I shouldn't - "

"Miss Granger" Dumbledore interrupted, with a smile, "that was not my meaning. The ingredients are fine, I'm quite certain, and all of you are more than welcome to use the facilities provided to whatever extent suits your purposes. In fact, consider them your own. While I certainly understand why you would wish to return to your appropriate ages, I was curious as to what would prompt you to make such a potion so soon after your arrival here. Had I considered such a thing a possibility, I would have informed you of the rest of your circumstances immediately."

"The rest of our circumstances, professor?" Draco questioned.

"Yes, what critically important piece of information did you leave out this time?" spoke Harry in an undertone. Hermione stared at him, shocked at such a statement coming from her friend. Draco appeared to be fighting agreeing with Harry's assesment of the situation.

In a particularly Dumbledore-like fashion, the Headmaster ignored the comment, almost seeming not to hear it. Instead, he simply provided the explanation.

"Time travel past the age of ones' birth, as I told you before, is not generally possible. It is, normally, not even plausable, as the longest anyone can travel into the past tends to be days or perhaps even weeks. In some cases of very great power of an individual witch or wizard, and an extremely powerful spell, time travel of a year or a few years may be possible. Should a person travel past the time of their birth, however, several problems are created. Firstly, and most importantly in this case, you can never be born. Because of the duality principle, two of you may not exist in the same time. The way magic is solving this, in your case, is to force you to grow younger. The rate is adjusted between your current apparent age and your time of birth, such that, at the moment you would have been born, you will cease to exist.

"Also, because the magic substance you used to travel back in time did not travel with you, namely, the potion is not still on your persons, at the point in time you arrived here, the future you knew ceased to exist. I believe I mentioned this before, but I will clarify. Anything that you do in this time cannot create a paradox. As far as magic is concerned, you are currently beings composed entirely of magic and your original intent to wield magic, and are, currently, completely outside natural law. Simply put, you were "born" of magic by coming here.

"Which brings me to the solution, which is actually rather simple. In order to stop the de-aging process, you must find a way to bring yourself back inside the realm of natural law. You will need to tie yourself to this time, through blood magic. You will become, in essence, part of the family of someone in this time, and through that person become subject once more to natural law - for the most part. While the bond will tie you more closely to the natural world, it will also tie the other more closely to the pure magic you are currently subject to. There will, therefore, be certain... inconsistancies."

"First, however, we need to go over the requirements of the blood bond. Obviously, you will need to someone from this time. And it cannot be just anyone. Firstly, they must bear some fundamental similarity to yourself. Similarity of background, of basic nature; the more you are basically the same as this individual, the easier the bond-creation will be. That, in and of itself, will not be the problem. The problem is that this spell was originally created by an ancient group of mages who used it in their marriage ceremonies. Because of this, it was originally intended to thouroughly meld the personalities of the two individuals, to make the marrige more harmonious. It also gives both persons access to the others' memories. Not in such a way that the memories would seem to be your own, however. Think of it more as having a muggle video library of another persons' expierences available for your mental perusal.

"Since I doubt you wish to share your entire lifes' memories with anyone just now, I found an alternative that will work for you. It will only work in your particular cases, working, in fact, because of the time travel. When you bond to someone from this past, they will be given the memories of their future-self up to the point all of you left for the past. Hypothetically speaking, just as in the original uses of the spell, the memories will not feel like their own, nor will they be incorporated as though they had been experienced. The spell has never been used in that way, however, and I'm not entirely certain how one would react to the memories of their own future self.

"There is still, however, the personality blending problem. Which is where the diffiulties in finding a person to bond with come in. In order to counter the loss-of-individuality aspect of the bond, you must find a person that, while fundamentaly the same as yourself, displays himself or herself as your opposite. If their personality is far enough different from your own, this aspect of the bond will not affect you. They must be, at once, of the same essence as yourself, and yet display a face to the world that is completely opposite that which you do. The must have something fundamentally in common with you, yet, to all appearences, be your antithesis."

"How is that possible? I mean, how can anyone be just like you, but also your complete opposite?" Hermione asked, clearly lost in the new information, and no longer much considering.

"That is not exactly what I said."

"Professor, could you give us an example?" Hermione asked, in true Hermione style, as it was likely the most sensible question of the evening.

Dumbledore sat for a moment, deep in thought, staring at each of the students in turn, thinking about what he knew of them, and trying to think of someone he knew who would be a match. His eyes settled on Harry, tucked into a comfortable armchair, sitting quietly, staring at his hands. Harry Potter, from what Dumbledore knew of him, was a remarkable young man. Mature, resposible, and dedicated, though perhaps a bit too much of a brooder. So unlike his father. Dumbledore thought. Then almost jumped as he realized the obvious answer. James!

"Indeed, I can." He remarked, sitting forward, "I believe, from what I know of each of you, that James Potter and Harry Potter would be a nearly perfect match. No doubt, being Potters, you had nearly identical upbringings, yet James Potter seems to very much crave the center of attention that you, Harry, seem to avoid. He is loud where you are quiet, rash where you seem to think things through. I have no doubt you are both quite brave, but he is unquestionably Gryffindor in nature where you, Mr. Potter, seem more Slytherin, as was demonstrated in yesterdays' sorting.

"In fact, should James agree to bond with Harry, I believe he would be the perfect candidate. And, considering his nature, I'm almost certain that James would agree. There are, however, many other aspects to this bond of which you must be aware, and which he would have to be made aware of. Physically, you will age differently; perhaps as much as twice or even three times as slowly. This is one of the oddities that would occur since you are currently outside the natural world. For each of you, your magical power would increase, and any minor magical talents you have would be amplified. This is not entirely a good thing, however.

While the increase of your magical power should simply increase the power available to you, having little to no effect on the spells you cast on a daily basis, the talents may pose a problem. There are many magical talents that have been lost or all but lost for centuries; as such, you may suddenly display an ability for which we have no method of training. Such an ability may even be overwhelming. I warn you, it is possible that such a sudden realization of ability may drive any one of you insane.

Also, your life force will be tied to theirs. Should either of you die, the other will die as well. You will have, to some extent, telepathic abilities. The extent will vary according to your compatibility, as well as the effort you put in to training them. As nice as it may seem, it also means you will lose some measure of your privacy. If nothing else, extreme emotions, and the thougts connected to them, will always be carried across this link."

"Professor, can you clarify the part about the memories?" Hermione asked.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you wish to know, Miss Granger" Dumbledore responded.

Hermione thought a moment, then carefully clarified. "Well, sir, you said that a persons' memories would be, well, "returned", even if that's not the right word, to them up through the point where we left our timeline. The problem is that, in our time, James Potter is dead."

"Ah, I see. The answer is quite simple: he would regain all the memories he had up until the point of his death. I must ask, however; how did James Potter die?"

Harry began, wondering how much detail he should give on a future that could now never exist "Sir, how much do you need to know about that. It is... something I would rather not -"

Dumbledore interrupted "Just the cause of death, if you would; disease, or torture, or accident. If I need any details I will explain further."

Harry spoke, quietly but decisively, "Killing curse. No torture, not even much of a duel."

Dumbledore seemed relieved, but explained gravely, "Yes, that is all I needed. You see, should a person have died in a particularly horrific way, there would be a great risk when giving their younger self access to such thoughts and emotions. Death exists for a reason; for everything there must be a limit. To return the memories to one who had experienced such things, who died in incredible pain; it would be a risk to their sanity."

"Professor..." Hermione began, then glanced pleadingly at Harry, who understood what she wanted to ask immedieately.

"What about Neville?" Harry asked, sounding drained. "His parents - they, well, they didn't die really, so I don't know if the same thing would apply, but they... well, they were... "

"Were driven insane by the Cruciatus curse." Draco finished for him, when it seemed as though Harry was unable.

"I'm afraid that the same holds true even if the person didn't die. Were Neville to bond to his parents, they would almost certainly become as they were in your time."

Harry looked as though he'd known the answer before he asked it. In truth, perhaps he had, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. What a horrible fate to leave a friend to, especially in the midst of what could be wonderful for him. It wasn't just Neville, though. Should he go through with it, and be bonded... even if James Potter were willing to do such a thing, it would mean leaving his friends behind. So instead of looking extatic, or even relieved, Harry looked to be in pain, almost as though resigning himself to a horrible fate.

"I won't accept, even if James agrees, not if it my friends don't have the same choice." Harry said, though he knew it was a battle he would lose.

"Harry you have to!" Hermione said, shocked, "You are the _only_ one who can defeat Voldemort."

Dumbledore was as surprised at the name given as he was that it was spoken, but that was nothing compared to the other shock contained in that sentence. Not that he could allow the youths to see his surprise.

Instead, he simply asked "Harry?"

Harry merely nodded, his expression now completely closed.

"In that case, my boy" Dumbledore spoke, reluctantly "I'm afraid I must insist. We will approach James as soon as you feel ready to do so. There is no great hurry, but it should be done soon. Perhaps, should they prove to be compatible to one of you, Remus and Sirius would be willing to make such bonds as well. They would be ideal, as the secret would certainly be well kept between them, and you seem to trust them as much as I do. We will simply leave the decision to them."

"But that's so much to ask." Hermione said, not sure whether to be afraid the boys would agree, losing so much, or afraid they wouldn't find anyone. She settled for desperate - for any sort of answer. "Do you think they would?"

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James, Remus, and Sirius had decided, early on, that their encounter with Hermione no longer counted as being remotely wierd. Discovering that people who knew you, who you didn't know, who looked up to you as parents and were, in Harry's case, actually your or your friends' child, had traveled into the past, were currently actually older than you, due to a potion appeared slightly younger than you, and were de-aging pending death; that was truly wierd. Compared to that, nothing measured up. By the time they'd figured out the time-travel bit, they were intrigued. By the time they'd figured out the de-aging bit, they were sympathetic. By the time they'd realized Harry was James' (and Lily's) kid they were... well, James was wierded out and Sirius and Remus were snickering uncontrollably.

When Dumbledore mentioned the bonding, they each began to consider it. As they listened to the details, they tried to pick out if any of them would match what they knew of the three in the other room, and of the fourth who was sleeping near by. When James was mentioned as a good match for Harry, the three turned to each other, and began discussing what they should do about the whole thing. Which is fortunate, as it meant they weren't listening as their fates were mentioned.

James and Sirius were some of the least responsible boys of their age. They'd played a thousand pranks that were hurtful or even downright dangerous, an never gave a thought to it. At heart, though, they were a different sort. They were the kind to love unconditionally, to feel deeply, and to protect with all their strength. They were boys, though, and covered such feelings with boyish pranks and false fronts. Remus knew their true nature, though, and was ever thankful for it. He tolerated - perhaps too much - the rash outbursts and the foolishness, knowing all the while that they cared as much as, or perhaps more than, himself.

As they listened, all throgh the dark, early hours of the morning, they'd become attached to the youths, if for no other reason than the familiar way the Marauders heard themselves spoken of. These boys protected, fiercely, any they saw as their own. The second they discovered there was a way to save these others, the strangers who saw them as family, they didn't even need to see the others' reactions to know that they would all do everything in their power to help.

"Do you think they would?" Hermione's voice came through the door.

The fear and desperation in her voice made up their minds. James, Sirius, and Remus, some of the least responsible boys of their age, shouldered, in that moment, the responsibility of their adult selves. They stood as one, and James opened the door. Standing tall, looking far more like warriors of ages past than fifteen year old boys. In unison they spoke,

"We will."

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A/N: Thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers! I need some help, though. I need ideas for animagus forms for Draco, Harry, and Neville. No Dragons for Drake (unless you can give me a VERY good reason why), and no Phoenixes for Harry (tho I might do that, if I don't get any ideas I like better).


	7. Emotional Roller Coaster

Disclaimer: Sorry, forgot about these 'till now. This goes for the whole story: I don't own Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money off of this. If I missed any legal language that I ought to have put in there to keep from getting sued, please copy and paste it here Thanks much, Rhen.

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James' declaration was, for a moment, met with stunned silence.

Perhaps it was stress. Perhaps the insanity of the past few hours had simply become too much. Whatever the case, the intensity and seriousness of the moment was broken by Hermione's laughter. "Here I've been going on about how much I trust you three, and you lot were eavesdropping right in the middle of it."

The moment was an odd sort of turning point. Hermione and Harry relaxed almost completely, into laughter at the irony. They were inordinately comforted by the presence of those they trusted most - even if they weren't yet the adults they would become. They felt, for the first time since their arrival, that things just might work out. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to have suddenly found his customary attitude. Which was far from a good thing, considering.

"Oh, look, another Potter who likes to play hero. And the Traitor and the Werewolf, as well. Here to save us all, how disgustingly Gr-" Here he broke off, uncertain for just a moment, but it went unnoticed by most. It's hard to say if the last bit had been heard at all, really, since the room had become a cacophany of sound.

Remus had turned white as a sheet, obviously terrified that someone knew his secret, and that the someone didn't appear to like him enough to keep it. James had immediately reacted to this in the best way he knew how; physical force. Not that this action made any sense, mind you; it was simply James' way. Sirius was startled enough by being referred to as a "traitor" to restrain his friend; he was in fact demanding to know what the boy meant by that. Hermione, usually the calm one, could not believe that Draco would say such things, especially after the almost kind way he'd been acting since they got here, and was loudly reprimanding Draco for his reprehensible behaviour. Even Dumbledore was firmly demanding an explanation, in between attempts to calm the group.

It was Harry, who'd sat gaping at the scene before him since the moment the three boys had burst into the room, who managed to silence everyone. Just as James Potter was about to pummel Draco Malfoy to tiny bits for the sake of his wolfish friend, Harry moved directly in the small space betweent the two boys, and magicly, wandlessly froze James' fist mid-punch. The silence postceeding his action stood in sharp contrast of the noise a moment before. Harry didn't speak, even then. He simply looked straight into the eyes of his Father, and shook his head.

James, however, was not to be so easily dissuaded. Glaring at Harry, who, being currently eleven, was significantly smaller than fourteen year old James, he growled out "Let me go. He'll expose Remus. I'm not going to let that happen."

"And what, exactly, were you planning on doing to prevent that?" Harry responded. "If you hit him, it would hardly give him incentive to keep secrets for you."

James, despite the logic of the argument, seemed ready to turn his wrath on Harry for dissuading him. Hermione stepped in this time "Can't we sit down and discuss this like rational adults?"

Again silence reigned, until Harry spoke, with a bit of a laugh in his voice "Um, Hermione..." He gestured to himself, helplessly. Hermione seemed to suddenly remember her eleven-year-old appearence, flushing with embarassment as the rest of the youths, minus Draco, shared a quiet laugh. Draco began to make a disparaging remark, but was interrupted when Dumbledore spoke.

"That is quite enough." Dumbledore spoke, firmly. "There is much to be done, and, as Miss Granger pointed out, we must discuss this in depth if we hope to find a solution."

"But Professor, we have a solution." James said, his mercurial personality allowing the swift change from anger to calm conversation. "We three, we'll bond with them. Well, maybe not with _him_." James added, nodding towards Draco.

"Mr. Potter, while I admire the sentiment, that may not be entirely possible. If you remember, you must be compatible in order for the bonding to be effective."

James was not to be deterred "Well, how do you check?" he asked, impatiently.

"There is a spell, which -" Dumbledore began.

"Good, cast it then, let's see" James interrupted again, appearing to brace himself for whatever spell might be sent his way.

Dumbledore looked over the top of his glasses at James. "Mr. Potter, if you would allow me to finish." James looked somewhat chagrined, but grinned winningly. Dumbledore continued "We would have to cast it over each individual and their potential match. While that would not be time consuming with this group, there is another problem. The spell that checks compatibility is actually the first step in the complete spell. If the individuals are found compatable, and the binding is not done within one months' time, it may become impossible to bind the individuals at all. If you are truly serious about helping, that should not be a problem. But you must be certain this is what you wish to do. There are a great many reprecussions to this, after all."

Sirius spoke up "Live twice as long or more and suddenly be super-powerful? Sir, with all due respect, that isn't about to make me _not_ want to do this."

"Mr. Black, you are not considering the situation in its entirety." Dumbledore responded. "As I assume you three were listening the entire time, I am sure you know that the powers you gain may well be enough to drive you insane. And while you may live a great deal longer than you might otherwise have, those around you will not have the same privelage. You will have to watch an entire society grow old and die, two, perhaps three or even more times before you yourself face the same. Even should your friends make this decision with you, there is no guarantee they will be compatible, and there are many others in your lives, your parents, your family, that will not have this option. Also, I must mention, the process of the bond itself is painful, as it is an ancient blood-magic."

"That changes nothing, sir" Remus said. "This is - it is right, sir. I know it is. I... I would like you to test, well, me at least, tonight. These..." he gestured at Harry and Hermione, unsure of what to call them "I know we don't really know them, but they know us, and they, well, they obviously consider us family. And... sir, what I mean to say is..." Remus, normally eloquent, was unsure of how to say that his friends were his, for lack of a better word, his pack, and that these others felt like they were already a part of that.

Dumbledore was silent a moment. It was clear the youths didn't really understand the risks, but it was also clear that they would pursue this until he gave in. There was enough danger to the students from the future, considering Harry's importance to the side of the light, that he was willing to take the risk. "If you are quite certain, then?" Dumbledore spoke, looking at all three fourth-year boys. The three nodded thier heads without hesitation. Dumbledore sighed.

"Even the matching process involves blood-magic. Fortunately, it does not require much. How shall we do this? There is a fourth time-traveler as well, as you boys may not know."

"There is a fourth of us, as well, professor, and I'm sure Peter'd do this as well." Sirius spoke. The time travelers,even Draco, all flinched at the thought of Pettigrew. "As for who to try with whom, sir, you know us best, why don't you just try to match us up? If worst comes to worst, we'll just try each of us until we find a match."

"Very well, then. James, Harry, if you would." Dumbledore said. He motioned them to a spot on the floor just in front of his desk. He drew a small, black box from within his desk. It was lined with a rich, red velvet, and encased a sharp, small silver dagger. "Now, hold out your right hands." The boys did as asked. Dumbledore began to incant a spell in a soft, fluid language, drawing the knife in a small, shallow cut on each of their palms, at the base of the third finger. Still muttering the incantation, he indicated they clasp hands. As they did, a white light glowed around their joined hands, growing brighter until Dumbledore ceased the incantation. They all watched anxiously as the light dimmed, disappearing, and was replaced with a red light.

Dumbleore sighed, "Not compatible at all." He said. "If they were basically compatible, but too alike, their hands would glow yellow. This was the color originally desired when the spell was designed. We are hoping for blue." Dumbledore looked at the other two fourth-years. "I'm sure you understand why Harry is a priority. If you would each try? Remus?"

Remus looked upset "Professor" he spoke, his voice soft. He cleared his throat. "Is the dagger... silver, professor?"

Dumbledore suddenly understood "Yes, Mr. Lupin. I'm afraid you won't be able to help in this regard, after all"

Remus looked defiant. He wouldn't be allowed to help? When it might mean the death of these who saw him as thier family? "Professor, it's alright, forget I said anything. I just wanted to know. A cut will not kill me, sir. There's a risk in this for all of us."

"Mr. Lupin. While this part of the ceremony only requires one cut, the bonding itself requires a great deal more. I do not believe you would be able to survive it. Though there is a risk involved in all of this, that risk is unnecessary. I will not take it unless there is no other choice, despite your opinion on the matter."

Remus looked about ready to disagree. "I promise" Dumbledore interrupted, "that should no other options seem to be available, by the end of term, I will re-evaluate my decision." Remus relaxed at that, and nodded, though obviously unhappy.

Sirius, though now horrified to think that he might be outliving one of his dearest friends, stepped up to take his turn with Harry. A few minutes later, unsurprisingly, their hands glowed red. James, looking warily at Draco, obviously hoping it was not him with whom he was compatible, smiled winningly at Hermione and offered her a hand up before once more approaching the headmaster. They held out their hands, Hermione mentally wincing slightly at the thought of the blade, and Dumbledore once again spoke the incantation.

To everyones' suprise, their hands glowed a bright, brilliant blue. Surprised as they were, and curious as to what similarities and differences would cause their compatibility, both sagged in relief. James that he would not be bonded to Draco, and that the decision was conclusively made, now. Hermione was just relieved that she'd have one less thing to worry about. Though, none of the others had a match yet, and this worried her enough to prevent her from being happy about the absolution. She shared a look with James, filled with curiousity, and they smiled at each other.

Sirius looked to Draco in distaste. "I'd rather not bleed for a Malfoy, if you don't mind" Sirius groweled. Hermione looked between the two. The connection was rather obvious, actually. Both raised in a Pureblood wizarding family, both obviously Griffindor at heart. One chose to follow his family anyways, and turn his back on who he was. One chose to break free of the family Slytherin mould, and be his own person in Griffindor. There was little doubt in her mind as to the outcome of the test.

Harry, too, had realized the many obvious connections between Draco and Sirius, and the equally obvious differences in personality. While he could not, for the life of him, pick out the similarities and differences that would make Hermione compatable with his father, he had more than somewhat of a suspicion that these two would be compatible. Harry wasn't quite sure what he felt about that. On the one hand, knowing that Dumbledore would stop at nothing to find a match for the boy-who-lived, it was good to know that he wouldn't be the only one going through this. As many friends, and pseudo-family members as he'd lost in the travel to the past, he wasn't keen on loosing any more any time soon. No, he'd be facing this with Hermione, the one friend who'd always been faithful. Not only that, but he'd have a chance to get to know his father. _Actually, this whole thing might not be so bad, _Harry mused, _I even have Sirius back. Remus is here too. And my mother, and... but God, I miss Ron. _

Draco was also aware of the intense possibility of a match with Sirius Black. He knew Black's history quite well, being a Malfoy. Sirius Black was often discussed, often held up as an example to children of pureblood families such as his own. They had been raised the same, both had, obviously, Griffindor tendancies, and yet had made opposite choices regarding the wishes of their families. Added together, it made a match seem imminent. And Draco was scared out of his mind. Scared of having someone do such a thing for him, scared of someone knowing his thoughts, having his memories, seeing some of the horrible things he'd seen; most of all, scared of a bond that would give him a _brother_. A brother that, knowing all those things about him, would see through his facade.

Sirius himself was aware of the connecion, though his greatest fear was that their hands would turn yellow, that he'd turn out to be too much like the part of his family that he'd turned his back on. This Malfoy seemed entirely too much like the older generation, which was well known to the Blacks.

James, however, despite his already apparent lack of people skills, knew how to resolve Sirius' conflict. "Honestly, Siri, don't worry about it. If it turns out that you're compatible, it just means you're the complete opposite of the git. And if you aren't compatible at all, no harm done."

Sirius shot a nasty glare at Draco, who sneered in return "No one's making you do this, you know"

"Shut UP, Malfoy" Hermione bit out tiredly. "Stop acting like a spoiled child. If he's willing to risk this for you, the LEAST you can do is be greatful about it. Unless, of course, you'd rather cease to exist in about four or five years."

Hearing it that way, that there really were only about four years until they would-have-been born, was a sharp reminder of the urgency, and the seriousness of the situation. Draco's mouth clicked shut, and he sat back in his chair. Sirius looked to James, and they appeared to be having a wordless conversation. It was one thing to form a blood-bond with someone who already saw you as family, but quite another to accept into a close-knit brotherhood (which the Marauders certainly were) someone who not only was a complete unknown, but who already seemed to be at odds with your friends and your beliefs.

Finally, Sirius sighed, and nodded. He looked at Draco, and said "This doesn't mean I'll for sure go through with the bond. But there's no harm in finding out, right? I mean, it doesn't do anything bad if we're compatible and don't bond, right? Just that we wouldn't ever be able to if we didn't in a month's time?"

Dumbledore, who'd been silent to let the teens sort things out amongst themselves, responded at this. "That is true, Mr. Black. However, if you are so uncertain, perhaps it would be better to wait for another time. Once you begin the process, you have only a month. There are, however, no penalties for waiting to begin, excluding the loss of time."

"No, sir, I'll do it now. I'd rather know. And a month is plenty of time to choose." With one last half-hearted glare in Draco's direction, he turned to Dumbledore, and held out his hand. Draco's expression showed surprise, for an instant, before he schooled it back into careful neutrality and stood beside Sirius.

As the silver blade drew down their palms, both Sirius' and Draco's eyes glazed over, as though the blade brought forth, with the blood, memories they would much rather kept within. Unlike the others, they seemed to understand the chant, and both, without prompting, grasped the hand of the other at the right moment. The white light was different than it had been before, though no less intense; the light seeming to be more black than white. This startled both of them, though perhaps it shouldn't have, and they shared a look for the first time, both recognizing that the other knew what that meant. Then they looked away, both resigned to what they knew would come next. Their hands glowed blue.

Sirius stepped back, and slumped into the chair that Hermione had vacated. He was defeated. His ancestery had come back to haunt him, no matter what he'd tried to do in order to avoid it. Draco, on the other hand, looked scared. Not just startled, or frightened, but downright scared. He, too, fell into a chair - the same one he'd left a moment before - and slouched down, putting his head in his hands.

Straightening up, he looked to James. Sirius' eyes flicked in Remus' direction, seeming to be asking a question. James sighed. The'd figure out something to do about Remus. They weren't going to go through all this just the two of them, they'd find a way.

"I do believe that is enough excitement for one night, children. I am quite certain that you have a great deal to talk about. If I may suggest, there are suitable rooms in the annex, which should prove adequate for your purposes. Miss Granger, if you will key these three into the warding on the passageway wall, they will be able to enter your rooms, provided the inner seal is not activated." Dumbledore then addressed the Marauders "You boys will be excused from classes today. I expect you back in classes on Monday. Please use the time wisely. I will bring your homework by tomorrow, and we can go over the rest of the details of the spell at that time."

The group of teens (and not-exactly teens) knew a dismissal when they heard one. None of them spoke as those who had been seated stood, and the whole group filed out the door. The last few hours had been an incredible emotional roller-coaster, and it still seemed completely surreal. They were silent as they waited for the stairs to re-appear to the headmasters' office, uncertain how to relate to each other, now that the moment of crisis was over - or at least... temporarily settled. They exited single file, James first, but as he didn't know the way to their rooms, Hermione quickly moved to the front. Harry moved up to be by her side, both giving and taking whatever comfort he could.

James, Sirius, and Remus walked together behind them. Though silent, the three were engaged in a conversation consisting of looks and hand-gestures. As they had an entire silent code worked out, it was really rather a lively discussion, ranging across many points.

Draco was trailing behind all of them, completely lost in his own thoughs, and feeling utterly alone.

Harry glanced behind him to check that everyone was still following. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Remus questioning, by virtue of said code, what the Marauders should trust the time-travelers with just now. James' response was mostly beyond his field of vision, but Harry got that he was just as confused in the situation as the others were. Hermione, noticing the direction of Harry's gaze, glanced back over her shoulder in time to discover that James had every intention of adopting her as a sister, though he wasn't sure what should be done about Draco, and thought it better to get to know him before making any stupid decisions.

Hermione, unlike Harry, didn't wish to eavesdrop. Especially since the boys were completely unaware that they were being understood. She turned back forward, and cleared her throat, loudly. Feeling three pairs of eyes on the back of her head, she simply stated "Harry and I both know the code."

The boys exchanged dubious glances, and Sirius began a disparaging silent-comment on Hermione's intelligence, as no one knew the code, and they'd sworn never to teach anyone. Hermione snorted, and Harry grinned at them. Turning and walking backwards, Harry signed a suggestion that they never underestimate Hermione, and questioned the intelligence of anyone that would in terms that made Hermione snigger.

Sirius looked flabberghasted, Remus immensely surprised, and James as proud as could be. Draco, on the other hand, was now looking at all of them as though they'd gone entirely mad. Which changed, after a moment, to a smirk. Oddly, matching smirks were suddenly also worn by the three Marauders, who couldn't possibly have seen Draco. Harry wondered what could possibly have caused such a thing, and cocked his head in question. Just before he crashed into the wall behind him.

Harry shot mild glares at the three Marauders, and a third, more venomous one, at Draco, before turning back around. They'd reached the passageway to the annex. He looked to Hermione, and discovered that even she was fighting a grin. "You could've told me, Hermione" Harry muttered, disgruntled. At that, Hermione's grin broke through, though she quickly stilled it and began a long incantation aimed at the wards. The wand movement was equally complicated, and Harry took the moment to contemplate exactly how much his friend knew. Catching the looks of awe on the faces of the three Marauders, Harry got his chance to smirk. _Hermione sure is something else _Harry thought, proudly.

She completed her incantation, and waved them all through. Once they'd touched the space of wall, the boys could see the odd glow that indicated its presence. "You'll have to do that for Peter, tomorrow" James said "he couldn't join us tonight. And I don't think I'll remember all that."

Harry's face again became a mask, and he shared a meaningful look with Hermione. "We should probably discuss a few things, first" Harry said.

James was about to object, and to defend his friend, when Sirius laid a hand on his arm. Remus flicked his eyes in Hermione's direction, reminding James they had a lot to discuss with the time-travelers, as well. "We do have a lot of things to talk about with you guys, too. Though, I think I really need some sleep, now. Later, if that's okay." James said.

Hermione smiled at the three boys. As soon as the three turned away, she looked at Harry, signalling in their own code to meet her after this and talk.

"Um, not to interrupt, but where are we supposed to sleep?" Sirius asked, somewhat unhappy that these two could converse in a secret code, when the one he shared with his friends was currently ineffetive.

Just then, the door at the other end of the passageway opened, revealing a very awake, and very alert, Neville. Draco, suddenly appearing at the front of the group, immediately swept past him, nearly knocking him over, and headed off towards his rooms. "Professor Dumbledore fire-called while you guys were on your way. He filled me in on everything you all talked about, and sent a house-elf over to fix up rooms for you. I know whose is whose. Professor Lu - er, Remus' is near mine. Harry, James' is the floor above yours. Hermione, Sirius' is below yours." Neville spoke, without ever once looking at the representatives of the past. At the end of this speech, he simply turned and walked back into the common room. Remus looked a question at the others, then shrugged and walked off after Neville.

James and Sirius looked at the remaining time-travelers "Is he, er, always that... nice?" James asked

"We've had more time to get used to this all than he has. It is a bit of a shock, the whole thing, you know?" Hermione offered. Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance as they entered the main room, _what _was_ up with Neville_?

James and Sirius followed them into the room, but then stopped in awe. After hearing the words "common room", they'd been expecting something on the order of Gryffindors' common area, except perhaps a smaller, considering. But _this_... where on earth had this been hidden? And why had they never seen it before? Surely, you would notice such a place when looking out some window in the school... _somewhere_.

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Neville was convinced that the world was truly out to get him. Storming back to his room, he indulged in a mental tirade. He'd cut the flu connection just as the Headmaster had finished the bit about the bonding, and answered Nevilles' question about his own parents. He didn't care how rude it was. Neville wished those three boys weren't going to be here for the whole weekend. Of course, famous, perfect Harry Potter gets his parents back. Harry'd prallie get to bond to his father as a brother, and, unless he missed his guess, Harry's mother would bond to Hermione as a sister.

That's just the sort of way things would work out in the life of famous Harry Potter. He could spend the rest of his life with his mum and dad; not only that, but he would know them as a sibling as well as child, and truly be their friend. And Hermione would be the next best thing to his sister. There would be a bond between the lot of them that Neville would never have with anyone. That only left professor Lupin and Draco, who would obviously bond as well. Lupin to stay with his friends, and Malfoy to save his sorry arse.

Figures. It would leave Neville behind. As always.

But... didn't he remember Harry saying, once, that there were four Marauders?

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A/N: Thanks so much to my reviewers. I promise there'll be some action soon, hope I haven't bored you all to death!


	8. Lunch

Hermione wasn't in the mood to give Sirius a tour of the place - not just now, not when there was so much she wanted to talk to Harry about. Fortunately, Sirius seemed to have similar intentions - she figured he, James, and Remus had managed to arrange a meeting, as well. That or he just wanted to sleep, which was more than understandable - it was nine in the morning, and none of them had slept.

Her curiousity got somewhat the better of her, though, and instead of just pointing him down the stairs, she led the way. Since he already knew that her room was upstairs from his, she didn't mention it, but did point out the corridor to the right, at the bottom of the stairs, which led to Harry's room and so also to James'. She really wanted a good look at Sirius' room, but only got a peek as Sirius bid her good night and slipped in. What she saw surprised her.

So far, the rooms she'd seen - hers and Harry's - had expressly suited the personalities of their owners. Harry's was green, and very... somber, but comfortable. Sirius' room was done entirely in black with white highlights, in stark, utilitarian designs. Perhaps, though, this was because these rooms had been selected for their occupants somewhat at random, where the other rooms had been... intended, in some sense, for the time travelers. Promising herself she'd look into the whole thing later, she turned and headed for Harry's room.

The door was open, Harry waiting for her on a somewhat-squashy, dark green sueded leather couch. The trim of the room was mostly a striking shade of grey, though there were subtle highlights of both gold and silver. The combined effect was that of subtle power, giving off a feeling that might be intimidating, though Hermione herself felt oddly comforted by that power. Much like Harry himself. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she completely and utterly trusted the one who was in possession of that power.

She tucked herself into the opposite corner of the couch he was on, and brought her feet up to sit indian-style facing him, settling her back against the armrest. He smiled at her juvenile perch, and she grinned back at him "I'm hardly going to pass up the opportunity to act eleven again."

Harry couldn't help but grin back at her, infectious as her cheerfulness was. "Makes me halfway hope we're stuck like this" he said, then whispered "it's been a long time since there was anything to smile about, y'know?"

Her look turned serious, and she reached forward to put a comforting hand on his. "I know, Harry. I know."

"So." Harry began, "There are so many things we have to talk about, so many things to decide, that I don't even know where to begin."

Hermione sighed. "There are, at that."

"Hermione, do you think we should, well, have a sort of a memorial. For, well, for everyone." Harry's voice fell to a whisper. "For our whole world."

She shook her head, and spoke firmly. "I haven't given up on going back to them yet, Harry."

"But, this bond. Hermione, we can't…"

"Yes, we may change things. I don't know what will happen, Harry, and neither do you. We may not even end up forming the bond, might find a way back, and Dumbledore will obliviate everyone after we go. You can't know. We can only do the best we can do, here and now."

Harry nodded, but spoke again. "But if we can't go back, Herms, what then?"

Hermione sighed, feeling it so hard to reassure her friend, when she herself was so uncertain. "Then, Harry, and only when we're sure, then yes, we'll have a memorial. And we'll make certain it's an event to remember, even over the course of the next three hundred or whatever number of years we live."

* * *

Hermione didn't catch that she had said "when" instead of "if" – but Harry did. He knew what she was doing, and he thanked her. But he really rather thought it would be healthier for them to get used to the time they were in, and make the best of it. For now, though, he'd let her pretend, and he would pretend right along with her. He knew she needed to ignore reality for a bit, every bit as much as he did.

So he started a conversation revolving around everything they should and shouldn't tell the marauders, and what bits of it would be safe to mention in front of Draco or Neville. They talked long into the night, until the conversation died down into sitting comfortably side-by-side, occasionally making points on things they'd forgotten.

Long about three in the morning, Harry felt himself dozing off. He felt Hermione tug a blanket over him, and found that he was entirely content to remain on the couch. The last thing he heard was the click of the lock, as she shut the door.

* * *

It was nine thirty in the morning, and Hermione was wide awake. She was also certain she was the only one who was.

It was about time they got down to really discussing things. Hermione was tempted to make use of the incredible table in the midst of the room, but something held her back. There was a sense of magic about it, that somehow both called to her, and pushed her away. Instead, she settled down in the Ravenclaw section of the room.

The section-decision was calculated. She knew she couldn't settle in either the Hufflepuff or Gryffindor sections, else everyone would be distracted. Frankly, the Slytherin section would be the best choice, as it was set up for plotting and planning, but she was worried about house prejudices. Ravenclaw, however, was comfortably neutral.

Hermione Grinned at herself. "Comfortably Neutral" was exactly what she herself wished to be, especially in the coming discussion. Perhaps she was projecting her feelings on her new house? Then she frowned. No, she didn't wish to be entirely neutral. No one can really be neutral, with a madman like Voldemort on the loose.

Seeing as no meeting had been "officially" called, she expected there would be rather a long wait, before anyone else appered. Itwas most likely everyone'd had a late night, all things considered. If the rest were anything like Harry and Ron had always been, she would find herself sitting here until one or two. Though Ron, unlike Harry, wouldnt've gotten up, even had she tried to wake him.

Then, Hermione realized what she was thinking. Ron. Ron wasn't here.Ron wouldn't be there to be woken up, not ever again. Oh, gods, she missed Ron. She'd been trying her hardest not to think about it, to convince herself there was a chance they would all be going back, even if only for the sake of the others. Caught up as she'd been in the whole anti-aging crisis, she had even forgotten her plan to get everyone focused on something.

Hermione snorted. No need for the old plan anymore. Reality had provided them with ample distraction, in the form of the bonds. Even now, she was distracted by it. Distracted from everyone she'd left behind, everything she would never do. Not just Ron, but her parents, her friends. Her schooling - everything she'd ever done was completely meaningless, as now, it hadn't happened.

She found herself sobbing, clutching a pillow, without even realizing she'd begun crying. Everything seemed to come down on her at once, and she let it come. No-one was there to see; no one she had to be strong for. For just now, just these moments, she could let herself be weak.

There was no-one now, for her. No parents, none of the mentors she'd always had to rely on. Harry was here, sure, but he always relied on HER. She was alone, now; abandoned. The tears fell down, soaking the pillow, and she wished, more than anything, that she could cry on a shoulder instead of a bit of cloth and cotton. But her mothers' hands would never gently brush away tears again; her father would never pull her into his arms and tell her it would be all be okay.

She tried to keep herself quiet, not wanting to wake the others, not wanting them to know. But it felt as though her world were ending. In some ways, it had. The world in which she'd awoken just two days ago, never would be again.

"Why me? Oh, God, why me? Nothing, nothing I've ever done, ever been, has mattered. There's no one I matter to, no one knows who I am or what I stand for. Nothing has counted, not for anything. I may as well have died. Why couldn't I have? Why couldn't I just have died from it?" Hermione pleaded. Her breath caught in her throat, and she whispered past the pain. "Lost, so lost. Everything lost. Nothing. No-one. No-one to cry to, never again."

Then, almost as though she'd summoned them, warm, rough hands, much like her fathers', gently tugged the pillow from her grasp, and pulled her toward their bearer. She fought, for a moment, stubbornly trying to keep curled in on herself, but the other wouldn't have it, and she relaxed. Strong arms wrapped around her, and pulled her close; enveloping her in familiarity, in the scent of one she knew she could trust. He didn't speak, not a word, and she hadn't opened her eyes; yet she knew, without a doubt, who held her.

It should, perhaps, have been akward. While Remus Lupin had been her mentor since third year, and her friend since she spent all of last summer at Grimmauld place, this younger Remus knew none of that. He had no memories of the time she'd been forced to stay in the old, dingy house for her own safety. No recollection of mourning both the loss of Sirius, and Ginny's capture early this past June.

Yet no matter the differences, this Remus was much the same. He must've heard her crying, with his wolven hearing. He might easily have ignored the sound, but he hadn't. He might have, in trying to comfort her, sat akwardly beside her, uncomfortably patting her back and mumbling meaningless words of consolation. He hadn't.

Instead, he had refused to let her cry alone, pulling her to him despite her protests, exactly as the Remus of the future would've. It was enough to convince her to let go, to simply cry, and get it all out. She cried for what seemed like hours, and still, he made no move of protest. Finally, slowly, she stilled, sobs quieting. She shifted, to pull herself away, and he tugged her closer for a moment, before letting go.

"Thanks" Hermione whispered, greatfully, suddenly feeling timid.

Remus only smiled, softly, watching her.

"I- I suppose I should tell you why -"

"I heard." Remus said simply.

"Oh, er...yeah, I guess you would have." Hermione blushed. "I didn't really mean, you know, any of those things I was saying."

"Yes, you did."

Hermione ducked her head. "Yeah. I did."

They sat, silent a moment, the words hanging between them.

Remus watched her a while, as though trying to decide how to word something. Abruptly, he spoke. "You aren't, you know."

"Aren't what?"

"Alone. You have your friend, Harry. And James, he's practically decided to adopt you, with this bonding thing. Which means you have us, too. Sirius, and Peter. And, well, me."

He paused, his expression softening, and looked her straight in the eyes. "Don't ever wish yourself dead."

Hermione flinched. "It's not so easy to do as to say."

"I know." Remus responded, the words carrying the weight of personal experience. "Things will happen. Lots of those things will be terrible. But they will always end, and there will always be something good that comes of them, when all is said and done."

"What good could possibly come of this?" Hermione whispered, sadly, looking to Remus for an answer, for hope.

"We might not know all the answer to that for years, yet. But here's some of it: us, Hermione. This bond. It's a guarantee that, no matter what, you will always have us, or, at the very least, James. That's not a guarantee many have."

"I... hadn't thought of it that way." Hermione said.

"I know. And, bond or not, you've also got us. Sirius and I. And our friend, Peter, too, I'm sure."

Hermione suddenly looked very uncertain. "Remus, about that, there's something we have to tell you. It's about -"

"Hermione, you're up early." A voice interrupted.

"Hey, Harry. And no, I'm not, you're up late. It's nearly noon." Hermione said.

"It's before noon still? Well, then, like I said; early."

Hermione laughed at this, but then sobered. "I was just about to tell Remus about Peter."

"Oh." Harry said. "No, not yet, Hermione. Wait until everyone's up, first. I don't want to tell that story twice."

"What about Peter?" Remus asked, sounding worried. "Does he die? Does he get hurt, or unfairly imprisoned, or...what?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry. Since he was still standing behind Remus, Harry could signal in their code without Remus knowing. _I want to tell them all at the same time. _He said. _They won't believe us. Don't trust us yet. I want that fight only once. Anyways, we have lots to get through before_ that_. Wait. Please._

Hermione sighed, and returned _fine, but I disagree._

Remus caught her movement, and looked between them speculatively. "And what was that about?"

"We're going to wait to tell everyone at once." Hermione responded. Then, catching his look of worry "It's nothing that happens so soon that a few hours will matter."

Remus looked skeptical. Hermione sighed. "I swear. On my honor as a Phoenixer." Then, realizing her mistake, clapped a hand over her mouth. Harry rolled his eyes, and snorted.

Remus looked at her with an odd mixture of surprise and respect. "Don't worry, I won't ask about it, and I won't tell the others."

"Won't tell the others what?" Called a voice. James was apparently awake, coming across the room followed by Sirius.

"Nevermind about that, what's for lunch?" Sirius asked.

Hermione laughed. "Males and food." She regarded James and Sirius quizzically. "You know, I didn't figure a single one of you would be up before noon."

Sirius grinned in return "We weren't. It's twelve fourteen. And Remus, here, has always been an early riser." He shook his head, and sighed. "Mad, if you ask me."

The mood in the room had definately lightened. Harry was practically glowing at his father and godfather, he was so happy to see him alive and well. He grinned to Hermione, and signed _Wow. I'm so happy he's here._

Hermione just grinned back.

Sirius and James, and to a lesser extent Remus, were simply disgruntled that information was changing hands and they were unaware of its contents. James voiced an opinion for all of them. "You know, it isn't fair to know our code while we don't know yours. Whyever did you develop your own, anyways, if you knew ours?"

"Likely to hide their misdeeds from us, Sirius, considering we're the responsible adults in their time." Remus said.

Harry and Hermione sighed at the same time. The cheerful mood was gone as suddenly as it had come. They'd developed the code for use in battles; made their own because Pettigrew knew the Marauders' code. They'd never had the proper time to use it for mischief.

"Let's wait on that, until after lunch." Harry said. The others nodded, having felt the change in atmosphere.

"Speaking of lunch" James said, "I do believe that table's got it for us."

The others glanced over, surprised and somewhat puzzled. The table, the one at the far end by the window, did, in fact, appear to be piled in food. A mad dash ensued, for places around the table, as though the teens thought they might not get anything to eat should they take too long in getting there. Even Hermione participated in the charge, excusing it as part of feeling "eleven".

She did, however, think it immature to eat without Neville and Draco. She commented on it, pausing in the midst of filling her own plate. "Um, guys?" She paused, uncertain how to refer to them, but continued after a moment "shouldn't we see if Neville and Draco are up, and if they want anything?"

"They're up." James and Sirius answered at the same time. "We checked before we came out here, actually." James continued. "Your Neville... he's not so happy about this all, but he's been up for a while. Was finishing his own lunch, when we dropped by. Apologized for being short with us last night, and asked us to pass on a message to you. Says he's dealing with it, but doesn't want to talk about it, and not to bother him, or to expect him out for a while. Draco, on the other hand... well, we went to talk to him. He's... I don't exactly know how he is. Anyways, I don't expect he'll be joining us anytime soon."

Hermione sighed, swallowing a mouthful of hashbrown. "That's just as well. We've a lot to tell you, that doesn't concern them."

The three marauders exchanged glances. "Same goes with us, actually."

"My room would be best, I think, for conversations." James said. "Do, er... I feel foolish asking this of eleven-year-olds, but do either of you know how to put up a silencing charm?"

"Of course." Hermione said, feeling the question almost an insult to her intelligence.

"Hermione" Harry warned, "You look eleven just now, not sixteen. And there isn't a war on, here. They don't have the same sorts of pressures we did."

"Actually" Remus said, "There is a war on. Only no-one wants to teach children anything, seeming to assume that we can't be hurt by spells we don't know."

"It's scary, you know, how much you are like your older self." Hermione said. "I do believe you used exactly that point to convince Dumbledore to let us train for battle, and to join the Ord- um, the, ah..." Hermione glanced at Harry, pleadingly.

"It's okay, Hermone, we know about the order. All our parents are in it." James responded.

Sirius snorted, muttering something that sounded like "I wish" under his breath.

"Sirius, I count my parents as being yours, you know that." James said.

"Yeah, I know, Jamie. Just... bothers me sometimes. You know?"

James clasped his friend on the shoulder. "I know, Siri."

"Right, what were we saying?" Sirius asked.

"I believe the basic gist of it was 'we should go talk some stuff out, and put up silencing charms." Remus responded.

Hermione, realizing Professor Dumbledore arrive any time, added "We really should get to talking, then; the Headmaster said he'd be by today, and there are some things we need to discuss before he comes."

Her suggestion was met with nods of approval, and the teens rose, heading for James' room. They soon discovered why he'd suggested it. It was nearly as Ravenclaw-ish as Hermione's room, except that it was also, very obviously, intended for gatherings; it had a living room. It wasn't exceptionally spacious, but the room quite comfortably seated the five of them, and would have seated twice as many in a squeeze.

Harry and Hermione shared a glance, and Hermione raised her wand for the silencing charm.


	9. Bloody Rituals

Time Turned

Chapter 9

* * *

Hermone frowned.

She'd known that particular silencing charm for almost two years, now, and been able to cast it for at least six months; she was certain she'd done it right. Only, something just hadn't /felt/ right when she'd cast it just now. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it bothered her, whatever it was. The feeling was oddly familiar, though familiar in the way one recognizes something they haven't seen or heard in years.

Shaking the feeling off, Hermione cast a spell to check for the charm. Nothing. It wasn't there. Her frown deepened. She couldn't use any of the other, weaker, silencing charms she knew; Draco could break most, if not all, of those. Hermione sighed. She tried the spell again. Still nothing.

Two flicks of her wand, and the silencing charm should have been up.

"Well, huh." She muttered

"Must've forgotten something."

She sighed. Not that the others would recognize the other silencing charm as dark magic (excepting Harry, who wouldn't be too bothered by it), just that she hated using anything dark to achieve her ends. She knew it, like any use of dark magic, would take some piece of herself, however small, in the process. There were many spells one could use, and potions one could take, to keep such a drain to a minimum. Nearly the whole order had regular doses of a potion to that end, and she and Harry were current for another month. But that didn't mean she liked it.

She wasn't particularly worried, except that something in the back of her mind was telling her it was a bad idea. Rolling her eyes at the nagging voice in the back of her head, Hermione cast the spell.

And very nearly passed out.

About two seconds before she hit the ground, Remus caught her.

"Hermione? What was that?" Harry asked, concerned.

Sirius was glaring at her. "It was a dark spell, that's what it was." He bit out.

"I know, but it shouldn't have-" Harry began.

"But nothing, you can't just /do/ dark magic like that." Sirius cut in. Turning to Hermione, he demanded "What were you thinking?"

Harry answered for her. "Sirius, calm down. The Order trained us in spells like that one. There are protective measures we take, so that it isn't so bad. We've both been using dark magic since this past summer."

"You can't be trained very well, then. It wouldn't have affected her like that if she'd cast anything dark before." Sirius responded.

"What do you mean, we haven't been-"

"Harry, hush. I think I know what's going on." Hermione spoke. She turned to Sirius. "Sirius. Normally I'd ask this of Harry, but, if my suspicions are correct, it would harm him as well. Please don't take this the wrong way, but do you know the "quantum magus" spell?

Sirius snorted. "Yeah. I know it. And I don't know why, but I'll do it, as well. Who?"

"On me, if you would, Sirius. Thank you." Hermione said.

Looking like it was against his better judgement, Sirius cast the spell. Hermione's skin appeared to glow a pale yellow. He glanced at the results, but seemed completely unsurprised. Harry and Hermione, on the other hand, looked downright shocked. James and Remus appeared completely confused by the entire thing.

"Oh, no. No, that's not good." Hermione said.

"Could someone _please_ explain what is going on? What was that spell, and why...?" James asked.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know what's up with them," he gestured to the franticly-silently-conversing Harry and Hermione, "but that spell she had me use is for guaging a persons' magic levels. It can also tell what's effecting your magic, like if you've used dark magic, or are protected by anything. I've seen it done lots, done it lots, but there was nothing off about those results that I could see. Her magic looked like any normal kid's." He cocked his head at her "Perhaps a touch on the powerful side, for twelve, but certainly not shockingly so."

"And that was exactly the problem, Sirius." Hermione said. "My magic looks exactly as it should, were I eleven. But you forget, I'm not. It's not really a problem; I expect my magic simply adjusted to my age. It was just... a bit of a shock. We use potions and such to protect us from dark effects; those should have been evident. So should the residue of dark magic casting. Plus, I've never seen myself with so little power. It's worrisome to know that I'm the only one here who couldn't defend myself if pressed, and it means I'll have to be more careful what I do."

"There shouldn't be any need to defend yourself, here, Hermione." Remus responded.

"And besides, we'll protect you." Sirius grinned at her.

"Indeed, fair maiden, we shall defend you until the death, should needs be." James continued.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Actually - " Harry caught her eyes, and gesutered meaningfully. "Oh, right, the silencing spell." She stood again, and Harry walked to her side. She reached out a hand to touch his, and again incanted the spell, using the light magic spell as not to harm the unprotected Harry. This time, she felt the reassuring surge of magic.

"There, all set." She finished. "Now, what I was saying is, yes, there may well be reason to defend myself. Firstly, from -"

"Now wait just one minute." Sirius said. "How is it that you did that charm, when you couldn't before."

"Well, simply put, I used Harry's magic to cast the spell. When I touched his hand like that, I had access to his magic for a moment; it only worked because he was willingly lending me the power. It's a skill related to Legillimency, we perfected it this past fall when-"

"I caught that part, actually, Hermione. It's not like I've never seen... that's beside the point. If your magic has lessened from the de-aging, shouldn't Harry's be, as well? It should have been impossible, even for the two of you combined, to cast that spell." Sirius said.

Hermione sighed. "Harry's magic /is/ lessened. He /is/, magically, his twelve, or eleven, or whatever, year old self. However, Harry is... different. He's... " she paused, not really knowing how to continue.

Harry cut in. "This is one of those things we needed to tell you. I'm... you heard the prophecy?"

"No, what about it? We heard something about a prophecy while you were in with Dumbledore, but not the details of it."

"Basicly, Harry is the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord. There's a lot of history we have to get through." Hermione sighed. "I don't know if I want to change the way some things happened, but I think it's best, at least for now, if we tell you everything. Just - promise you'll wait to the end, with all your questions, or we'll never get through this." Everyone nodded, and Harry reached over to grasp her hand.

This time, Hermione's sigh seemed to come all the way from her toes. "Harry was born Harold James Potter, to James Talbert Potter and Lillian Marie -"

"Yes! Yesyesyes! I marry Lilly!"

"James." Remus said "I highly doubt that is the end of the story, or even the most surprising thing to happen. Besides, you already knew Harry was yours and Evans' kid. Now quiet, or I swear I'll silence everyone, just so we can get through this."

About five minutes later, Remus had to prove he would. He added a binding charm, for good measure. It ended up being a good thing. Long before the end, James and Sirius were silently screaming at them, no longer believing a word of it. Hermione had to stop. She'd only just got to the part where Voldemort showed up at the Potter's house, but she couldn't go telling them about Voldemort's defeat or Sirius' capture while they were like this. They weren't even taking in what she said, and Harry was starting to get angry.

"I'll take of the silencing charm, but only if you'll be quiet." She said.

They continued in their silent screams and rants.

Remus sighed. "Yeah, they'll be like that. I don't suppose there's any chance you're wrong?"

"No. There's not. But, well, everyone was wrong once, in our time line. I ... remember how I said Sirius was supposed to be secret keeper?"

Remus nodded, looking apprehensive, as though he had somewhat of a clue what was coming.

"Yeah, well... when I said they didn't tell /anyone/ about the switch, I meant it. Not Dumbledore, not you, not /anyone/."

Remus went white "No..."

"Yeah. Everyone thought he betrayed them, betrayed Lily and James to the Dark Lord." Hermione noticed that James and Sirius had stopped their silent protests, and were now watching her, open-mouthed. "It was the story of a century. The next day, Sirius went to confront Peter. In a streetful of muggles. Peter yelled for everyone to hear that Sirius had betrayed Lily and James, blew up the street, and then transformed into a -" a hand was firmly clamped over her mouth. Hermione looked at Harry, questioningly. Harry merely shook his head. Some things should not be revealed. Hermione sighed.

"He, er, got away." Her voice hushed. She no longer needed to convince them, she could see it in their eyes. "He framed Sirius. Sirius, in our timeline, was found at the scene, laughing. They didn't even give him a trial. Twelve years, he spent, in Azkaban." She stopped. This was enough, more than enough, for anyone to take in for now. And Sirius and James looked like they were not just shocked, but in shock.

Remus, also, had noticed that his friends had fallen "silent". He sent Hermione a wary look, but released the silencing and binding spells. Sirius opened his mouth, glaring at them, but couldn't seem to find words for what he wanted to say. He snapped it shut, and stood, and stormed out of the room. James was more uncertain, glancing between the door and Hermione. He paused long enough to say "I - Hermione, this doesn't change my mind about the bond. But I... I'm not saying I think you're lying. I'm not saying I can believe this, either. Especially not from an eleven-year-old."

"But I'm, we're, you can't -" Hermione sputtered, indignantly.

James held up his hand. "I know you're not eleven. And, like I said, it doesn't mean I'm against you or anything. I just... I think I'm going to wait to decide what I'm going to do or say until I know more. Until, well, after the bond. And, for now... I'm going after Sirius. I'm sure Dumbledore will be able to find me, when he needs to."

James left, much more calmly than his friend. Remus, however, made no move to follow.

"You'll forgive us, Hermione, I hope. That's just - I suppose from your perspective it's obvious, or whatever. But he's one of us, he's a Maruader, and... it's just not possible to believe that of him. If it were you... well, would you believe it of each other? Not just that, but Peter's... he's the "good" one. Even more than I am. He's the one who'd never hurt a fly." Remus stopped for a moment, staring at his hands, clasped in his lap.

"I... I guess I understand what you mean about obliviating, now, though. I'm not sure I want to know, and I know I don't want to treat him, treat Peter, the boy I've known these last years, the boy who knows, er, everything about me, yet doesn't hate me; I don't want to treat that soft-hearted boy like the traitor of a man. I mean, there's no guarantee that he'll turn, this time, right?"

Harry spoke up. "No, there's no guarantee. But, if you don't know, you won't be able to be cautious of it."

"That's not entirely entirely true, Harry." Hermione responded "Any of them who find out from the bond, after all, won't be able to be obliviated. Not of something that big, not without doing permanent damage."

"Why would you tell us. Why did you tell us, and them especially, any of this, if they'll know it anyways from the bond? Why not just wait, let them find out, let me hear it from them? Why give us cause to doubt you?" Remus asked, in a pain filled whisper.

Hermione was hesitant. "Because they might not want to form the bond, might not want these memories at all. And they, and you, have the right to know what you're getting yourselves into, before the time comes when there's no turning back."

Remus gave her a look of shock "Twelve years."

"Exactly." Harry and Hermione answered together.

Remus fell back against the couch, a glazed expression on his face.

"What are you all going on about?" Sirius asked, coming back into the room, much calmer. "I'm sorry about walking out like that. I do believe you. James will take a bit longer to settle, though, I think. He's that sort, you know? I'm a bit, er, I have a bit of a temper, and I don't always think before I act."

Harry winced. Hermione reached out a hand, but jerked it back at Harry's glare.

"We were talking" Remus, too wrapped up in inner turmoil to notice the byplay, replied to Sirius "About twelve years, Siri" his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "James' memories will end just after Hogwarts, and the worst bit of difference, is he'll know Peter's a traitor. You and I, though. You'll have the memories of spending twelve years, /twelve years/, Siri, in Azkaban. And I'll have the memory of those twelve years alone, thinking Peter dead with James and Lily, and thinking you the traitor."

"Oh. Azkaban. I -" Sirius cleared his throat. "I guess, I guess I'm a bit..."

"You're sane, Sirius." Harry responded, with a bitter smile "sane as ever, anyhow. Not the same, not like you are now, but sane."

"How? And - how do you know this? Am I found innocent, then, after twelve years?"

Harry's bitter smile became a bitter grin, and he let out a dry chuckle "You escaped."

Remus joined in the bitter laughter. "You would, Sirius. If they locked you in Azkaban unfairly, you would, seeing as the odds are millions to one, manage to stay sane even after twelve years, and then even manage to escape."

The group fell silent, after that. Each was lost in his own thoughts. Remus finally broke the silence. "That's not all of it, is it, Hermone." he said.

"No." Hermione answered, soflty, "it isn't." Clearing her throat, she continued. "Let me start with when we got to Hogwarts. Harry lived, for the first part of his life, with his Aunt and Uncle..."

* * *

"....will be born as the seventh month dies"

It had been hours since the group had settled in the room. They'd been through all five years of Hogwarts, interspersed with whatever bits of background information seemed necessary. The Marauders, in turn, had been through much of what they felt the others needed to know. That Remus was a Werewolf (though the Marauders were already pretty sure that the time-travelers knew), about attempting to become animagi (and hoping to succeed soon), and, basically, every other little fact that they thought was important to share. Harry was amazed, honestly, that Dumbledore hadn't been by yet, but was glad for the chance to settle everything, first. Assuming James would know enough, once the bond was complete, Harry had just retold the prophecy, and allowed the room to fall silent.

"There isn't really much else to tell." Harry said. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his young godfathers' face. The guilt, that he'd escaped from since being here, had returned full force. Memories of the night he'd heard the propehcy were invading his mind, blackly fluttering with the quality of the veil.

Hermione was watching him, he knew, but there was little point in trying to hide his feelings. She knew him to well for him to pretend and get away with it. Besides, surely she wouldn't say anyting in front of Sirius and Remus.

"Harry James Potter." Hermione snapped. Harry winced, perhaps he should have tried to pretend. "Not another moment of that. It /is not your fault/ that he died."

Harry sighed, and slowly brought his eyes to those of his best friend. He whispered "Yeah, Hermione... it is." Clearing his throat, Harry changed topic. "Anyways, back to what started this whole topic. That's why Hermione drew power from me."

"Uh, Harry, you actually didn't answer that question." Sirius said.

"'Power the Dark Lord knows not, right?" Remus asked.

"Exactly" Hermione said. "While sheer power alone isn't directly what the Prophecy refers to, Harry has a great deal more magical power than the average wizard would at our age. Even at whatever age we are now, Harry's result of that spell would be at the least green, though more likely blue."

Sirius breathed in sharply "But green is-"

"Normal level for an adult wizard. Yes, I know." Harry said.

Sirius was shaking his head. "Amazing. So, do you think the prophecy still applies, in this time?"

Harry snorted "I doubt I could get away from it that easily. That's another one of the things we wanted to make sure you knew. I wish James was here to hear it as well, but we figured you have to know that you'll end up involved in this war, if you choose the bond."

"I would have been anyway." Came a voice from the door. "Just this way, I will be, sooner. Dumbledore's been by. He said some things have come up, and he couldn't stay to talk to you all. He sent this book," James held up a thick, ancient-looking tome "about the bonding ritual. He also suggested we make it our first priority to find someone compatible with Harry."

Remus was studying his friend "What changed?"

James ducked his head, and flushed a bit. "Dumbledore had a little chat with me. He explained, well - a lot of things. Apparently he spent a bit of time in Hermione's head." James grinned in Hermione's direction.

Hermione grinned back, glad to see James acting, once more, like himself. "Well, how 'bout we order up some Pizza, and get started on a list of potential candidates."

She'd been expecting the purebloods in the room not to know what Pizza was, so she was quite surprised at the resounding "yes!" that came back as an answer. Chuckling, Remus explained that they spent most of last summer at his house, and his parents' place was in an all-muggle neighborhood.

"Oh, well, that makes sense." Hermione answered, not really paying attention anymore. Something else had caught her attention, it didn't make sense that, if James was okay with things, Dumbledore wouldn't have come up to complete the bond. Lost in thought, she didn't notice that Remus, Sirius, and Harry were arguing about the sort of pizza, or that James had come to sit by her. He placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention, and she started. She stared at him a moment before she gave voice to her thoughts. "James, why didn't the Headmaster want to perform the bonding now? Surely it would be best to get it out of the way."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." James replied. "It's all in the book, but he explained it to me. He does want us to bond, and as soon as possible. He told me to talk to you about it, and that you'd understand. It's not really something /he/ does /to/ us. The bond was originally intended for married couples, remember. It's a bit... it's sort of a private thing. There are certain adjustments made to it for a familial type bond, but it's still not exactly something done with an audience." By the end of this speech, he was blushing.

Hermione covered his hand with her own. "Remember, I'm not eleven. I've done plenty enough blood magic in my life." She quirked a smile, to cover her shudder. No matter how much blood magic she'd done, she still hated it, and the knives still bothered her. "Besides, it's worth it. I've always wanted a brother."

"I've always wanted a kid sister, myself." James grinned back at her. "So, when do you want to-?"

Hermione plucked the book from the coffee table, where James had left it, and began leafing through. James took it from her, flipped to the right page, and handed it back. Hermione quickly read through the procedure. It was hardly complicated, as it was intended to be able to be used with nearly anyone (not everyone who would want to bond would be smart), but it would require a good number of ritual cuts, and they wouldn't be able to wear an awful lot. Hermione found herself quite glad that she looked eleven, just now. It wouldn't be half so embarrassing to be standing about in her underthings this way. She sighed.

"Well, as soon as you're comfortable with, really. I'd feel much safer, and it would be far easier to check people for compatibility if we didn't have to bring everyone to Dumbledore. We could wait 'till after dinner if you'd like."

"You mean now?!!? Dumbledore said soon, but I don't think he meant /today/. I would think he intended us to wait for later, to practice, or for him to be around if we drive ourselves mad or whatever!" James shouted.

The room went suddenly silent. Harry spoke up. "With the rest of us, yeah, maybe. With anyone but Hermione, there's risk. But you're binding with the most brilliant witch of the age. She's not about to go mad over some hidden power, and she'll know, as well as the Headmaster, what to do if something goes wrong. In fact, I wouldn't doubt if she already knows what hidden talents she's likely to unearth."

Hermione snorted at that. "No where near as well as Dumbledore, Harry. But there's no more risk for us now than there will be later, and I'd rather get this over with." She turned to James. "He is right about one thing. There is less risk for us than for others, because I'm used to channeling immense amounts of power; Harry's power. I was there when we removed the lock Voldemort had placed on Harry's powers, and there's a shield I can use, if you need it. Harry is likely the only other one who can do it, but he's never tried it before, while I have." She paused, considering the boy in front of her. "But we can wait, if you want. There is... a lot, to consider. A lot is at stake."

James gulped. Not that he hadn't intended on doing this, and the Headmaster had said to do it soon, just that he hadn't expected to do it today. "I'm not so sure if -"

"Did Dumbledore leave the knife?" Harry interrupted.

"Huh?" James asked.

"The ritual knife, did he leave it?" Hermione persisted, knowing where Harry had been going with his comment.

"Er, yeah, but what does that have to do with -"

"Then he intended for us to do this now." She stated, matter-of-factly.

"Why do you say that?" Remus questioned.

"It's the way he works. He can't outright tell us to do it, but if he didn't want this done now, he wouldn't have left the knife." Hermione said, decisively.

James looked her in the eyes, "You're right, then. It's best to get this done now."

Sirius stepped forward, and awkwardly clasped James on the shoulder. He tried to say something, but then just turned away, and went to sit back down on the couch. Remus copied his actions. Harry came over, and offered James his hand. The two boys clasped hands, and Harry offered a supportive half-smile. Turning to his best friend, Harry gathered her up in a hug, and held her for a moment. "Be safe, Herms."

Hermione just smiled at him, and tucked the book under her arm. "You have the dagger?" She questioned James.

"Yeah. Here." He tugged a smallish black box from his pocket. Hermione nodded at him, and signalled for him to follow her.

Not wanting to waste time, lest she lose her nerve, Hermione decided to simply use James' room for the ritual. It wouldn't take long. She quickly stripped down to her knickers and t-shirt, rolling the hem of her shirt and then knotting it off to one side to bare her stomach. Turning, she found that James had copied her actions, and stood in his shorts. Hermione was all business, not allowing herself to even consider the awkwardness of their situation. "Did you read this through?" was all she asked.

"Yeah, I read it, and Professor Dumbledore wentover it, but i don't know if I remember all the cuts we're supposed to - "

"Don't worry about it. The cuts are all standard. Just copy what I do. You only need to know this part of the incantation," Hermione pointed out a paragraph, handing James the book to look over again "I'll do the rest."

Then Hermione took the dagger, and sliced both her palms in patterns of tiny, surface-shallow incisions. She began an incantation, the ancient language flowing off her tongue in the pattern of someone who knows the meaning behind the words; who is not simply shoving syllables together in hopes of forcing a magical response. She signaled for James to set the book down, and handed him the dagger, holding her own palms out to him for an example. Wincing very slightly at the thought of these and all the cuts to come, he copied her actions. She changed the pattern of her chant after that, taking the dagger back and slowly marking arms, legs, and feet, in short lines and simple symbols.

After each mark, she handed James the dagger, and he copied her. None of the cuts were particularly deep, and the incantation was repetative enough that Hermione had no need to check the book. Many of the cuts were simply for the sake of having a certain amount of blood on the surface of the skin for the final bit of the spell, and didn't require any exact pattern, simply to be on a certain part of the body. Signalling to James to turn around, she propped the book up on a dresser, never breaking the flow of the incantation, and carefully copied the diagram on the page. She finished, and James turned back around. She pointed to the diagram, and turned her back to him, unknotting her t-shirt and tugging at it to expose her back to him.

He cut a tad clumsily, often deeper than strictly necessary, or too shallow and having to repeat the cut, and Hermione steadfastly refused to wince. Ron had been far more clumsy than this when they had all first learned ritual blood magic. Oddly, one of the protections against dark magic involved a ritual that was almost eerily similar to this one, though it had only required the markings on arms and legs, and they'd done it while carefully watched by instructors. Her back was hurting more from the abuse than her arms ever had. She forcefully returned her mind from thoughts of Ron, focusing herself on completing the ritual. She wouldn't be doing Ron any favors if she killed herself off because she'd been inattentive to a blood ritual. Confident as she'd been when speaking with James, this was hardly risk-free.

Finally, James finished with her back, and the incantation changed yet again, the words flowing seamlessly from Hermione's tongue, James now joining in the incantation. Carefully, she marked a set of runes into her torso, before turning back to James. This time she didn't hand him the dagger, but waved his hands away, marking the runes herself. As Hermione finished the last one, they both fell silent. Eyes now glazed, Hermione dropped the dagger. Carefully, she approached James, and they met, palm to palm, stomach to stomach, pressed together. They recited the last phrase from the incantation again, and then embraced.

Magic flashed through the room, white light coating everything, and they felt the incredible power as it rushed outwards, draining them, and they clung to one-another in fear and anticipation. The sound of it roared in their ears, almost as painfully intense as the fiercely glowing light. The outward tide seemed to have no end, and they both worried that they would fall unconcious from the pull of it. Then, suddenly, the tide changed, and, like waves rolling into a sudden, deep depression, the magic was crashing back into them. The sheer magnitude of it forced them to thier knees, though they still clung to each other. And then it was silent.

Just like that, it was gone, and no signs of anything having happened remained. They were just two kids, kneeling together in a mostly-empty room. They fell back from each other, sitting to the floor, exhausted. James examining his arms, hands, and torso, surprised that no sign of the shallow incisions remained. Hermione smiled at him /what did you think, they would remain forever?/

James jumped at the voice in his head. /It worked?/

He could literally /feel/ Hermione's amusement. /Of course. You aren't insane, and you aren't dead. Those should have been your first clues./

Choosing to ignore Hermione's fascicious remarks, James returned to his original question. /Well, no, I didn't think they'd remain forever. I just thought, I don't know, that they'd scar, or there'd be... some kind of mark/

Hermione smiled at him. Suddenly, he saw a flash of the room as though through her eyes, focused on his right shoulder. The vision faded as quickly as it came, and he looked for himself. There, where one set of the marks had been, was what looked like a tattoo. It very closely resembled the runes Hermione had drawn on their stomachs.

He grinned at her, seeing a matching-but-not-exactly-the-same "tattoo" on Hermione's shoulder. "Nice." Then, worried for a moment /I thought the bond was only supposed to carry thought associated with extreme emotion. Can you hear everything I think?/

Hermione snorted. "No, I can't hear everything you're thinking. Just the things you direct at me. Basicly, if you intend to say it to me, I can hear it. It must have to do with physical proximity, or the newness of the bond. Or one, or even both, of us is a natural telepath."

But that wasn't James' only question. "Telepathy, huh? But, we don't have any really crazy abilities then? And, why don't I have those extra memories?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "There's no guarantee about the extra abilities. They could show up at any time, really, it's just that there's the potential there, now. Or, more accurately, there's more of a chance that we develop them than there used to be. Technically, there was always a chance. Provided that there are any hidden talents there to be developed, that is."

"And the memories?"

"It's not like you'd get them all at once. Remember the way the professor put it? You have /access/ to those memories. It's more like reference than your own thoughts and emotions. They'll become more a part of you, in time, but right now you won't know them unless someone brings something up that, er, triggers them."

"Like what?" James asked, not really thinking about it.

Hermione winced, but knew it would get the point across. "Peter."

James was hit with a flood of emotions, memories, and thoughts. There were so many, that it wasn't even like remembering. There was hate mixed with love mixed with anguish, and he couldn't sort anything out. He was lost, confused, and almost certainly losing his mind. And then it all stopped.

Shaking his head, he realized he felt a bit... fuzzy. "What was that?"

Hermione, surprisingly, was crouched in front of him, eyes closed, palms pressed to either side of his head, and gasping for air from some sort of effort. He didn't remember her crossing the room. "The rushing bit or the stopping bit?" She panted.

"Both." James responded.

"The rushing bit was your memories. The stopping bit was me. Now, as I can't keep them out all day, I'm going to ease this block back out of your mind bit by bit. You're going to get each of those memories you called up, but you're going to get them one at a time. Take your time, and don't worry about signaling me or anything. I'll know."

James took her advice, and lost himself in remembering six years of information about a friend who became a traitor.

* * *

It wasn't really very much later, that they emerged from the room. All told, the spell hadn't taken more than about an hour, and reliving the memories had gone rather quickly. James was worried he'd have another relapse like that, but relaxed a bit when Hermione promised that things would be easier to work through after a nights' sleep gave his brain a chance to catch up.

When they walked out of the room, James' living room looked almost exactly as it had when they went in. Sirius was perched on one end of a couch, head in hands. Remus was across from him, leaning against the arm rest, staring at something unknown. Harry was by the window, staring outwards. It was Harry that noticed them first.

Hermione grinned at her friend, and he smiled back, looking relieved. Using their code, out of habit, he asked if everything had gone well, and if James remembered everything. Grinning over Hermione's head, James signed back that Harry was an inconsiderate pain in the leg (Harry and Hermione's code had no specific insults, so he had to make something up, and "arse" wasn't in their code either). While Hermione'd been in his head helping him to deal with memories, he'd asked her about her and Harry's code, and she'd neatly given him the information. It had been simple for her to do so, she'd told him, as the transfer was basically the same as she and Harry'd done for those order members that they'd taught the code to.

Harry didn't seem to mind that someone else knew their code, and laughed outright at being called a pain in the leg. This, of course, drew the attention of the other two marauders, who bounded up in a moment, surrounding James and Hermione, and wrapping them into a group hug.

Hermione grinned. "Well, that's settled. Now, who do you think would be a good match to bond with-"

James neatly covered her mouth, much as Harry'd done earlier. "Enough of that, for now, lil' sis. Pizza first. In depth analysis of the composition of the student body, later."

"But -"

Harry and James shared a grin over Hermione's head. Amidst her protests and Remus' and Sirius' laughter, they wrapped arms around her and marched her over to the couch, pulling her down between them. Harry handed her a slice of pizza, and James passed her a glass. "Someone's got to make sure you eat." They said at the same time. All four boys broke into laughter at the look on Hermione's face.

"Well, can we talk /while/ we eat?" she asked, innocently.

"No need, really" Sirius answered her. "We were talking while you guys were off playing with knives," he grinned, but the sobered "we think we have a match for Harry."

"Really?" Hermione asked, "Who?"

"This one should make you happy, James. Our guess is, Lilly Evans will match him. And we talked about something else, too." Sirius seemed to hesitate.

"What?" James asked.

"We're going to bring Peter up here to check, as well." Remus said. There was a sharp intake of breath from both James and Hermione. Remus paused, measuring the looks on their faces. "Harry thinks he might be a match for Neville."

"There is no way I'm letting that R-"

/HUSH/ suddenly echoed in James' head. Hermione then continued, more quietly. /Some things are better left unknown. Harry suggested we not mention it. It won't be any fun if everyone knows what they'll be./

James frowned at her. /How come I don't know what I'll be? How can I remember the others' forms and not mine? Wait, no... you didn't.../

Hermione smirked /I did. I put a block on those memories, when I was in your head. I'll remove it later. After you find out./

/What else were you messing around with in /my/ head?/

/Oh, nothing/ Hermione replied, over-innocently /Just a few things about Lilly that you don't need to be knowing yet, and a couple of other things. Nothing bad, and nothing particularly important. But it wouldn't be any fun if you knew everything about your life, at fourteen./

/Nothing important? Knowing how Evans kisses hardly qualifies as unimportant./

Hermione snorted. /James. Think about it. You /married/ the girl. If I hadn't blocked /anything/ you'd know a great deal more than that./

James blushed, uncharachteristicly, and looked away. Hermione couldn't help it, she sniggered. And then she was laughing. Sharing a look with Harry, laughing too hard to explain in words, she signed in Marauder code what had just happened. Soon all of them were roaring with laughter at James' expense.

"Of course, I'll take the block off if you insist." Hermione said, after catching her breath. James blanched, then joined in the laughter.

"No, that's alright, Hermione." Then, with an evil grin "Though I do reserve the right to change my mind."

That set everyone off again, laughing until their sides ached. It was as much the release of the tension surroundng the past few days as finding humor in James' statement; they'd needed to laugh.

Finally, Hermione got ahold of herself. "Right. So. Peter and Lilly. How are we getting them here?"

"Hogwarts' dinner will be done in a few minutes. We fire called the Headmaster, and asked him to send the two in our direction. Neville, actually, is wating for them, and should bring them to the corridor. We'll need you to pass them through the wards, Hermione. If either of them isn't a match, Harry says you'll be able to Obliviate them, now that you've got enough power." Sirius answered, then added "If you need to."

Hermione nodded shortly.

James, however, wasn't satisfied with this "What do you mean, if. There's no way Peter can have access to these rooms."

Sirius looked shocked. "James, he's our friend. Just two hours ago, you were more upset by the thought of leaving him out than I was."

"Yes, but now I know. Sirius, he's a traitor! You can't possibly want to let him in here, just to betray us again!"

"He's not a traitor." Remus answered, in his soft-but-firm way. "In their world, after a certain set of events, a man that was once the boy we know betrayed us. But the boy, he isn't that man. And we have no right to judge him for something he hasn't done."

James sighed. "Right, as always, Remus. We'll let him in. But we'll watch him, and we'll be careful. At least a little bit."

"Harry?" Hermione questioned, worried what her friend thought of this.

"Yeah, Hermione. I'm okay with it. We talked it all out, before. And I do agree with Remus."

"Hate to interrupt this 'Remus-knows-all' fest" Sirius said, "But we should be getting Hermione out there to let them in."


	10. Lilly and Peter

Chapter 10

* * *

Neville was waiting in the corridor with Lilly and Peter when Hermione'd arrived. Only she and Remus had gone down to meet the newcomers; Hermione to set the wards, and Remus to offer a familiar face to the two. Sirius, and even more so James, had volunteered to go, but it was suggested that Lilly might not have agreed to go with them. Hermione and Remus'd passed Draco in the common room, he'd been eating dinner, and warned him about the new additions to the warding. He'd sneered when they mentioned Pettigrew, but otherwise ignored them. Taking this as a good sign, they'd continued on outside.

Hermione spoke the words of the incantation, and Remus was once again impressed. Lilly seemed nearly awed, even though Hermione, by this time, looked more like thirteen or fourteen. Peter just seemed happy to see his friend, who'd been missing for two days.

"That's you." Hermione signaled Lilly past, but then put out a hand to hold Peter back. "Wait just a second; they have to be set separately."

She incanted another sentence, and the space of wall flashed a mild yellow color. "There, that's you" she added, before waving him through as well.

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. She'd sent them all through as a group, last time.

"Just a warning." Hermione whispered at an inaudible level, knowing Remus' enhanced hearing would let him hear what the others had no chance to. "We agreed to let him in, but there's no such thing as too cautious."

Remus didn't seem particularly happy about it, but couldn't find a specific problem with her logic, either. He merely frowned at her, disapprovingly.

Hermione grinned at him. "Never had that look directed at me, before." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she responded cheekily "I'm the good one. It was usually Ron you were frowning at." The grin disappeared, and she fell silent. Remus put a hand on her arm, understanding, and gave a gentle squeeze. Hermione relaxed somewhat into the touch, and sighed. She covered his hand with her own, and gave him a weak smile.

"If you two are quite through" Lilly Evans asked. "I, for one, would like to know why we're here." She was standing at the end of the walkway, having turned to watch them with a raised eyebrow, Peter snickering behind her. Neville was leaning against the wall, too lost in his own thoughts to have noticed the exchange between Remus and Hermione.

Hermione regained her composure, and smiled. "This way, please. Neville, if you would come as well" Hermione lead the way up to James' rooms.

The walk was silent, until they passed the silencing charm, which was, apparently, still in place. The moment they crossed through the doorway, their ears filled with the sounds of the three boys laughing. "And then, would you believe it" Sirius was saying, between guffaws"the idiot tries to vanish them /again, and his whole robe turns pink."

James and Harry were laughing so hard they were nearly crying, and didn't even notice the newcomers. Not until Peter said "Are you talking about that prank we pulled on Snivellus" at which point the three burst into fresh laughter, Hermione and Remus looked disapproving, Lily suddenly looked disgusted, and Neville simply looked confused.

Hermione merely cleared her throat. James and Harry both fell silent almost immediately, and Sirius, finding himself the only one laughing, soon followed. Hermione turned to Lilly. "I apologize for /that/." She spat the last word"we really do have a reason for bringing you up here. If you would take a seat, I'll explain."

Sirius moved to join Harry and James on the far couch. Peter and Neville took another, and Remus and Lilly took the third, Lilly looking like this whole thing was against her better judgment. Hermione remained standing, walking over by the fireplace that the U of couches faced. She paced as she explained.

She gave a brief overview of the bond, the risks, and the potential benefits, highly stressing the risks. A carefully edited version of why Lilly and Peter had been brought into this, and what they were asking of them, followed. Hermione was careful to avoid, at this point, any mention of things that were directly in either of the two newcomers' future. She carefully avoided even the use of Harry's last name, despite how obvious it was that he was related to James.

An even more edited version of Harry's importance ended Hermione's statement. "...why we have to find someone for Harry, as soon as possible. From what all of us know of you, Lilly, we think you two might be compatible."

"There's more to this that you aren't telling me, isn't there." Lilly responded.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, there is. If you're compatible, we'll fill you in before you need to know. I know you don't know us, or necessarily trust us, but this really is for the best."

"I trust Dumbledore. And he sent me here, so I'll go along, for now. There's no real risk in checking if it would work, right"

"No." Hermione answered. "Not anything significant."

Lilly raised an eyebrow at this.

"The only real risk is that you are compatible, and choose not to bond within the month. After which you cannot bond. It's not really a risk, as such, more a ... consideration."

Lilly nodded. "Okay. Can we test this now"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "We were hoping you'd say that. Harry"

Harry and Lilly both approached Hermione. Hermione drew out the dagger. Lilly went a bit white. "Still sure you're okay with this" Hermione asked her.

"Yeah. It's just "

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "I know. It'll be alright. And this one isn't dark magic, I swear." At Lilly's nod, Hermione began the incantation. The tiny cuts were made, and they pressed their hands together.

The glow was white, and quite bright, but it settled in to yellow. Hermione groaned.

"I take it that wasn't what we were looking for" Lilly asked.

"No. We're hoping for blue. Yellow means you're too alike." Hermione answered.

"I'll try" Peter volunteered. Harry flinched, but covered it well. James didn't cover it half so well, but Peter wasn't looking in his direction at the time.

Hermione tried to smile encouragingly. She was actually almost afraid that Peter would match Harry. Or that they'd come up as "too similar". Either would be a huge blow to Harry. Biting back the urge to snarl at the poor boy, she waved him up. She quickly made the marks, repeating the incantation, and waited with bated breath. She mentally breathed a huge sigh of relief as the color settled at red. She waved Neville up.

The result was yellow. She stared at the boys' clasped hands in shock. Peter and Neville were beaming at each other, as though they'd found their new best friend. Everyone else, aside from Lilly, was staring at Neville in varying levels of horror. That was certainly unexpected. Lilly stepped up in Peters' place, and Hermione numbly recited the incantation again.

The white flash was barely visible, but the color settled at blue. Neville and Lilly both breathed a sigh of relief.

Everyone else was caught in inner turmoil.

* * *

"But it's just like earlier, there's no guarantee that Neville, that either of them, will turn. Besides, all it means is that they're too similar for the bond. That hardly means they're the /same/." Hermione argued.

"You're the one who put the warning on the entrance, Hermione." Remus reminded.

They were back to just the five of them, tucked away in the little room arguing over things. Peter and Lilly had gone back to the dorms, to avoid suspicion. Neville had decided to Polyjuice himself as Remus and go with them, also ostensibly for the sake of avoiding suspicion. The rest of the group was fairly well convinced, however, that the real reason was that Neville and Peter wanted the chance to get to know each other. The marauders were the only male Gryffindors of their year, so the two, once in the boys' dorm room, could spend time together as themselves quite safely. Lilly only left grudgingly, wanting to know more about the spell. She promised to return on the following day to talk more about the bond, and possibly to complete it.

Whether or not they suggested its' completion was the current topic for debate.

"But if they're bonded, we can't very well include one and not the other. If it had been Neville and Peter, we could have discluded them both. But I'm not about to stand by and let Lilly be ignored by the group. Nor is she dumb enough to let us get away with it." James argued.

"She isn't your wife yet, James" Sirius argued. "She's not even your girlfriend. There's no reason to include her in all this."

"But with the bond, she will be." James retorted. "She'll know, or at least be able to know, if she chooses, all the same things I know." He paused. "And how will you block her memories, like you did mine, if you won't be there" He directed at Hermione.

Hermione sighed. "I, or more likely the Headmaster, probably will be, James. Dumbledore didn't need to be present with us, because I knew what I was doing, and you are a reasonably competent wizard. Lilly, on the other hand " here James made a noise of outrage, but Hermione ignored it. "has never done a bit of blood magic in her life, and Neville is..."

"Incompetent." Harry answered, for her. "He's not lacking in power, and hardly stupid, but he's not confident enough to make his spellwork reliable."

"Exactly." Hermione finished. "So someone, most likely Dumbledore, will be there with them. It's not the ideal, really, as it tends to make the spell a tad less powerful, and there's the added risk of someone being distracted in a crucial moment. But for them, it's better than the alternative."

"That still doesn't answer what we let them in on." Sirius interjected.

"Actually, I don't see why we're having this conversation at all. There's no reason why we have to include Neville if we include Lilly. Just because Hermione and James can communicate telepathically doesn't mean anyone else will be able to. Hermione's a bloody genius, it's no surprise that she figured out something like that in two minutes." Harry said.

Hermione blushed at the compliment. "Harry's right, actually. While we may choose to include Neville in some things, there's no reason that what we decide to let him in on can't be independent of our decisions regarding Lilly. Even if they develop a telepathic link, which I see no reason why they couldn't in time, there is no part of that which would /force/ Lilly to tell him everything. I don't really see the reason to be biased against Neville, but I'm fine with leaving him out of things, at least for now."

"I think Neville's oblivious enough not to notice when we don't include him in things, at least if we're careful. What about Peter, though, will he pick up on it" Harry asked.

"Nah, there's no way he'll notice. He really does seem a lot like your Neville. Though he is a bit daft, as well. And I don't see him having any real magical strength hidden away." Sirius said.

James frowned. "No, actually, he is a lot like Neville. He actually does have the same hidden potential, and he isn't half so stupid as you think."

Sirius just stared at him, like he'd lost his mind entirely.

"The future-memories, Sirius." James responded. "Two days ago I would've agreed with you." James sighed. "We've really never been fair to him." He seemed very bothered by something, staring straight ahead.

Hermione watched him for a moment, and then spoke. "We just need to be careful. We need to watch what we say, and be careful not to slight either of them, or let on that we're leaving them out of something."

"And if we encourage Neville and Peter in their friendship, there's truly little chance that either will notice. Or that they'll feel particularly left out, if they do." Remus added.

Hermione didn't particularly like the solution, but it was acceptable. "Well, that's one thing dealt with. I suggest we all get some sleep, then. Lilly will be back tomorrow, and we'll need to go over potential candidates for bonding with Harry."

With that, she and Harry stood. They caught the exchanged glances of the Marauders, and the two shared a smile as they walked out the door, and into the corridor. Once outside the silencing charm, Hermione spoke. "I thought it best to end early, and give them a bit of time together, or they'll be up all night."

"So, are we taking some time out for a chat tonight as well" Harry grinned. "I suppose I'm not the closest thing you have to a brother anymore. Perhaps we need to discuss our changing relationship." He mocked.

"Oh, you." Hermione swatted at him. Harry ducked easily. "You're still my 'brother'. No need to go getting all despondent."

"So are we chatting, then"

"Nope, brother'o'mine, we're /sleeping/. It's time and past we got some decent sleep in this place. Except... I have to ask... who do /you/ think you'll be compatible with, that's in this time."

Harry groaned. "My luck, it's going to be " He cut himself off, and blanched.

"Who, Harry? If you've thought of someone, even if it's someone you don't like, we should check them first. You would know yourself best..." Hermione questioned.

"No. Refuse to even consider it. Forget it, Hermione. Not going to happen."

"Fine. But, if it comes down to it, will you"

"Yeah. If it's life or death. And if I find someone to bond with, and all goes well, I'll tell you then, too. Since I know you'll bug me for the rest of my life if I don't."

Hermione grinned at her best friend, and they parted ways to get some sleep.

* * *

Remus woke to find himself on a couch. On, in fact, the couch in James' room where he'd spent most of yesterday. It was truly odd, how many things had changed this weekend. It was even odder to discover that some things would always be the same. Like the Marauders talking so late into the night that they all passed out on couches, when there was a perfectly good bed not ten steps away.

He guessed it was, perhaps, ten or so in the morning. He was actually rather surprised that they'd all slept so late, what with Hermione's tendency to rise early. Actually, he imagined the only way she was still asleep was if she and Harry'd spent a night similarly to the way the Marauders had, talking till all hours. Remus frowned. That didn't explain why they weren't awake, though, as Lilly was coming over today, and was also a notoriously early riser; she would surely have had them up by now.

He yawned, and stretched, figuring there was no chance of waking his friends for at least another two hours, not on a Sunday. He could try, sure, but it wouldn't do a bit of good. Not even bothering to be quiet, he made his way to the door. He'd deal with showering later, first: breakfast.

As Remus stumbled blearily through the door, however, he found the world quite different than the one he'd left. The change from silence to the activity of a day was surprising, and he realized that the silencing charm was two-way. He was a bit surprised, as that was advanced magic, but he'd spent enough time around Hermione to know that such a charm was hardly a surprise coming from her. The noise level was hardly /loud, but if the charm hadn't been in place, it would surely have awakened him.

The scene that met him, at the bottom of the stairs, was rather odd. It was enough to convince Remus that he was surely still dreaming, and not to ever fall asleep after talking to James and Sirius again. Peter, for once, wasn't following anyone about. Instead, he was sat across from Neville in the quashy chairs of the Hufflepuff section. The two were seated, books spread in front of them on a coffee table, arguing; looking for all the world a pair of scholars, emphatically making some point or another.

The topic had to be Herbology. Remus couldn't think of anything else Peter even remotely excelled in. Still, he'd never seen the shy boy act anything like this. It was like he'd landed in a foreign world. As if that scene weren't odd enough, he turned to find a rather livid currently-seventeen-looking Hermione giving a dressing down to a currently-eleven-looking Malfoy, who was looking guilty and shame-faced. A now more-like-ten-looking Harry watched in amusement, oddly attempting to come to the eleven-year-old Malfoy's defense.

He had to close his eyes, pinch himself, and make an attempt at willing things different before he believed they were really there. He couldn't imagine Hermione hopping mad, nor a Malfoy ashamed, nor Harry defending Draco - not for anything. Yet here they were, and that was exactly what he was seeing. He choked back a laugh.

"It's not a bit funny, you know" spoke a disapproving voice behind him. He whirled. Lilly Evans stood behind him, hands on hips. "They might have done permanent damage."

Remus frowned. "She can just give them a de-aging potion, right? Won't that have the opposite affect"

"If it'd been a simple aging potion that did that, yes. Draco, thinking himself quite the potions master, apparently attempted an alteration of the aging potion. He was so certain it would work, he slipped it into the pumpkin juice. The only change in the potion's effects is, apparently, a sort of partial memory lapse. It's made Draco and Harry lose the majority of their memories." She sighed. "While they looked like children before, now they actually are."

"Idiot children, Lilly. Definitely idiot children." Hermione interrupted. "While they can vaguely remember the events of the past few days, they can't remember a thing of the past four or five years. They both think they've just gotten their Hogwarts' letters, for crying out loud. And Draco can't even come close to telling me what he did to that potion." She collapsed into a nearby couch. "I don't suppose either of you are potions geniuses."

Remus winced. "That's my worst subject. By far. I'm worse than Pete."

Lilly didn't seem any happier. "The only reason I pass is my tutor, Severus Snape."

Hermione shot upright. "Snape? He's /here? Oh, thank God. We're saved."

"You know Sniv, er, Snape" Remus seemed amused. "He must be a real, er... charmer, by your time."

"He's a bitter, sarcastic, spiteful pain in the arse. But he's a bloody /Einstein/ when it comes to potions, so he can be whatever the hell he wants. He invented the /Wolfsbane/ potion, for crying out loud."

"Wolfsbane" Remus asked, sounding a touch queasy. Wolfsbane was a poison for werewolves. "Er, that's not"

"Oh! I haven't told you" Hermione was grinning, though she also seemed to know what had been bothering him. "That potion, the one that Snape invented? It /is/ made with Wolfsbane, but it's not poison." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper "it lets you keep your mind when you transform." She dropped the whisper even lower "he's a spy for the light in our time."

Remus sat, stunned, for a moment. Then he let out a whoop. "Bloody potions /genius" He exclaimed. He couldn't stop grinning, right back at her.

Lilly looked at both of them, rather confused at Remus' words. "Er, I thought you hated him. Or, at least, that Black and Potter did."

Hermione sobered a touch. "Will it be a problem, if we have him here" she asked Remus.

Remus shook his head, gently. "No. Not if James" he dropped his voice "knows him for a spy."

"I'll have to refresh his memory on that, for certain. Sirius won't cause a problem" Hermione spoke normally, now, as Lilly was starting to look suspicious at their whispering.

"Not if James won't." Lilly responded. "And, look, I know there's stuff you guys haven't told me. I'm not that fragile, though. You can tell me. I'll keep your secrets, I swear."

She looked rather over-eager. Hermione glanced at Remus, questioning, but he simply signaled "later" in Marauder code, which was a subtle gesture - meant to be unnoticed in the midst of things. Hermione made the equally subtle acknowledgement, and re-directed the conversation. "So, where would Snape be on a Sunday morning"


	11. Finally Himself

The light from their clasped hands glowed yellow. Neville couldn't believe it. It had been a surprise to realize that there /was/ a fourth Marauder. And they were /alike/. Too alike to make the bond work; a flaw which was almost a shame, in Neville's opinion. Really, wouldn't it be great to have a friend, someone just like him, and be... brothers, or something, as well?

Neville had always wanted a brother. Always, as long as he could remember. He didn't really have the desire for parents that Harry had, not exactly, but he did long for family just as well. It seemed a betrayal to wish for parents, when he so often visited his own - on holidays and once a week all summer - so he didn't. He had more than his share of aunts, uncles, and, well... Gran, so he wasn't looking for anything like that either.

But a brother - wishing for that was... different. Acceptable. And this, this whole thing, time travel and bonds and all, could give him that, give him someone who was like him - at least in some ways. Who would accept him, without him trying to be someone else entirely. The yellow glow faded, and the other boy caught Neville's eye and grinned. The boy... no, Peter, his name was Peter. Peter Pettigrew - who would've, one day, in another time line, stand up to a far-more-powerful Sirius Black, for the sake of his friends. Someone whom Neville'd always admired - and they were alike.

Neville was startled back out of his thoughts when Peter let go, flashing him one last half-shy smile, and Hermione signaled Lilly up in his place. Lilly seemed nervous about the blade, though less so than when she'd tried the bond with Harry. Neville, himself, wasn't quite entirely certain about this whole knife-in-flesh thing, and it really rather did sting. He might even have called it painful, once... but that was before being held under the Cruciatus by his parents' tormentor. Now, the cuts bothered him only about as much as the scratches and such he often got from the more active of the plants he tended. Truth to tell, this wasn't really any worse at all; at least it didn't itch, as plant-scratches were prone to.

The glow wasn't nearly as bright, this time, as it had been when he and Peter joined hands, but Neville still wanted to look away, despite some odd compulsion to stare. He felt an almost moth-like draw to the light, and wondered if it were an effect of the spell. Nervousness edged into his mind, though it was much less negative than yesterday, when he'd been certain that Harry and his father, and Hermione and Lilly, would bond. Granted, when he'd found out Hermione and James had bonded, he'd assumed Lilly and Harry would simply turn out to be a match. But they weren't, and that gave Neville an odd sense of hope. That, and discovering there was a fourth Marauder.

Beyond everything, though, some small part of his mind was wondering what exactly the strength of the light meant. He considered asking Hermione, but then decided he'd rather not listen to her condescending tone - and he was certain she'd be condescending. Then again, he doubted he'd figure it out on his own. Besides which, figuring it out would take research, and he didn't have the tim - actually, hid did have the time. All the time he needed.

And Neville, for the first time, realized exactly what had happened, what an incredible opportunity this could be. No-one knew him, knew any of them, here. For Harry, who'd always been famous, it was surely a let-down, a disappointment, in that respect. No matter what he'd done in the past, none of that counted, now, not for anything, because here, he hadn't saved anyone from anything. He hadn't even as much as won a Quidditch match, to the people in this place and time. Sure, he had a chance to get to know his parents and all, but Harry'd always been surrounded by people, and Neville doubted that the other boy could even see past what he'd lost to realize what he'd gained – at least not yet.

For Hermione, it would be even worse. Because the things Hermione had done, the things that made her _her_, were things that no-one would count for much if they couldn't be proven. Harry could at least tell the stories of the things he'd done, and even if not everyone believed him, those that mattered to him would. And those that didn't believe, they'd at least think, hey, that was a great story. But what did Hermione have? Harry, and that's it. Not one single point of a single perfect grade she'd ever earned was recorded here. Her parents weren't here, nor would she ever be able to explain to them what had happened, as, since she wouldn't be born, it was unlikely they'd even have a magical child. They would be all-muggle, and telling them as much as "I'm a witch", let alone "I'm your daughter from the future", would be a crime against the international statue of secrecy. One worthy, at least, of a few months in a ministry holding cell. And if the truth were found out for telling her parents, all of their lives would be forfeit.

No, it was Neville, himself, that was the lucky one this time. The pale, white light surrounding his and Lilly's clasped hands seemed a beacon of hope, now. Not because he thought this particular bond would work, not really, but because _one_ of the tries was bound to work, and then he'd have a chance at… well, at anything. Maybe he'd ask Dumbledore to let him in with next fall's first years. He could be anyone and anything he wanted to be, and there was no-one who could even tell him what to do. Not until he found someone to bond with, anyhow, and even that person would only be a brother or a sister – he might be adopted by their parents, true, but even then…

Right then the light shifted, turning to blue. And some part of Neville that he hadn't ever quite understood just... clicked. He was compatible with someone. With Lilly, with Harry's mum, and he wouldn't be left out. He wouldn't even be the last one to find someone to bond with. And in that instant, he felt as though he were both more an individual, and more a part of something greater than himself, than he ever had before.

He smiled straight at Lilly, intentionally showing his relief on his face, and saw a matching relief in her face. He squeezed her hand just slightly before releasing it, in a gesture of friendship, and she smiled, nodding.

Lilly… her, he'd accept as a sister. He'd listen to her counsel, even follow her advice if it made sense. He might even become closer to Harry's mother than Harry himself, and some part of him that had always envied the boy-who-lived was pleased with, even proud of that. A sister, then, and maybe even a brother.

As he settled back into a couch, Neville's eyes returned to Peter, only to find that he was being watched as well. He wondered exactly what he had in common with the boy across from him. The spell didn't indicate exactly how alike they were, only that they were too alike to form the bond. It almost seemed Peter knew what he was thinking, as he flashed him a huge grin, and motioned for the door. They each shifted position slowly, and one-at-a-time, both grinning as they realized they were equal masters of being unnoticed, even amongst those they counted as friends.

Neville felt an almost entirely odd sense of anticipation and excitement, as he took the final few steps towards the door, watching the rest of the room for their reactions. It had been a long time since he'd been really /excited/ about anything. Oh, he'd been - enthusiastic might be the best word - about herbology, or specific experiments. Now and again, he'd been excited when an experiment had gone well, or some such.

But right now - this was different. Not only was he intrigued, excited... but the excitement was feeding on a matching one he could see in one last flash of a grin before Peter slipped out the door. Whatever their other similarities, they were both, obviously, looking for friendship. Cautiously checking the room before following through the door, Neville couldn't help but grin in return, as they came face to face in the hallway.

"So, where should we go?" Peter asked in a whisper.

"Uhm, actually... " Neville began, quietly "you'd know better than I would."

Peter looked surprised. "Oh. Er... I guess I might. I don't usually... that is I'm not really, er..."

"The one people tend to ask?" Neville questioned.

"Yeah... or, at least, sort-of."

"Me, neither."

The silence that followed wasn't wholly uncomfortable, as they stood there in the hall, studying each other. Each was so used to following that they weren't quite sure how to lead - or where to lead to, now they had the chance. Neville broke eye contact first, staring off to the side a moment. Eyes fixed on a spot on the wall - that really rather looked a lot like all the spots beside it - he cleared his throat nervously.

"I've got a room. Um, a set of rooms, you know. Here. Where we could go. That is, if you'd like? Er, I mean to say... " Neville broke off and ducked his head.

"Yeah." Peter spoke quietly, and met Neville's eyes steadily when he looked up. "Sounds great." Neville smiled and turned towards the stairs. As he reached the landing, the other boy spoke again. "Only... is there any food? I missed breakfast."

Neville's smile broke into a grin, as he looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Yup. We can summon a house elf, and they'll bring anything we want. C'mon, it's great!"

And with that, they dashed down the steps, oblivious to the red-haired girl that was smiling at them from the doorway she'd just come out of, or of the conversations that were going on back in the room they'd just left.

* * *

This had to be the oddest day of her life so far. It had been perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary, until dinner. Just three hours ago, Lilly had been sitting at her customary spot in the Gryffindor section, eating a perfectly ordinary, if no less good for being typical of Hogwarts' food, dinner. Then, professor Ressell, the head of house, had come to the table, to talk to the remaining member of the Marauders. Mildly curious, she'd listened in, assuming the four boys - or at least the missing three - were in trouble. While this was hardly unusual, considering the groups' trouble-making tendancies, professor Ressell surprisingly turned to Lilly when she was done, and included her in being called to the Headmasters' office.

Startled, to say the least, to be included, she'd gathered her things and stood almost mechanically. The walk from the great hall to the Headmasters' office was a blur in her mind, and the conversation with the headmaster had been truly odd, even for him. The only thing that kept Lilly from panicking was the proferred Lemon Drop, which, for this once, she'd accepted. The sweet-sour flavor had brought her enough focus to realize that the headmaster was asking something of her, that it involved the odd visitors from lunch along with the missing Marauders, and that, whatever she chose, he would fully support her decision.

She honestly wasn't quite certain how she'd arrived at the upstairs room where the tests had been performed, either. In fact, the only thing that had snapped her out of her reverie had been coming face-to-face with that arrogant, cruel, prideful prat; James Potter. And, of course, he'd been in the midst of one of his favorite past-times aside from creating trouble in others' lives: telling about trouble he'd made in someone's life. In yet another story of how the "great" James Potter had picked on "Snivellus". She'd almost turned and left right then.

Only the young girl at her side had kept her from leaving. The second major shock of the evening for Lilly had been the discovery that /someone/ else, in all the world, disapproved of James Potter. Or, at the very least, of James' idea of "fun". It had been enough to get Lilly's attention, right along with the way the girl, whom Lilly had thought looked too young to have even started Hogwarts, took charge of the room. The boys - all the boys, for there were two in the room that Lilly didn't know, had quieted immediately, responding to the other girl as though her command were quite unqestioned.

The third great shock, or, perhaps more accurately, series of shocks, had been the story Hermone told.

Those words had to be the most shocking, most amazing, of any Lilly had heard in her life. They answered questions, true, making sense of little things, but had begged so many more questions in return that she couldn't even sort them out well enough to start asking. Time had seemed to run in great, bounding leaps from there, slowing down when they checked the bonds, while she was entirely lost in thought for the rest of it. When Lilly had found out she was compatible with one of the time-travelers, she'd been relieved. At least it answered one whole series of questions, even if, now, she faced the decision on whether or not to follow through with any of this.

Which brought her right to where she was, now, settled on a couch in the darkest corner of the room. The furniture had a decidedly Slytherin feel, here, but just now Lilly found comfort in the deep shadows. She wasn't hiding, not exactly, and even if she were, she'd be hiding from her own feelings, not from others. But she was also too uncertain to really feel comfortable in the boisterious Gryffindor section, and the blood magic of a few hours ago - or however long it was, she really wasn't sure - weighed far too heavily on her mind for the lighthearted, innocent look towards Neville's dorm.

Which left two sections. And Lilly wasn't quite certain why she chose the Slytherin over the Ravenclaw, only that there was something... soothing, and powerful, that no other place she'd ever been or seen had managed to posess. And she'd been contemplating that choice in location for at least an hour - in order to avoid thinking about the really important things. This whole thing was too much, really. Although - she'd always felt rather bad for Peter, tagging along after James as he did. And this other boy, Neville, he seemed of the same sort - good-hearted, but not confident enough in himself to shine. Together, they might just find themselves; they'd gotten a good start, earlier, from what she'd seen after the meeting.

Speaking of Peter, though, he'd be missed soon, along with the rest of the Marauders. He might not be too noticeable by himself, but the lot of them together were, and when the other three had disappeared, people had taken note of the fourth still being there. Now that he wasn't... well, they'd just better get going back.

Withdrawing herself from the corner of the couch, Lilly set off purposefully in the direction of Neville's rooms. It was rather a distance; this place was almost a whole school in and of itself, rather much for just the four living there, or even the nine that were now present. As she got close to halfway across the massive common area, just as "Slytherin" was beginning its rather odd blend with "Hufflepuff", she caught sight of something... almost glowing, off to her right. It was... odd, sort of, and it drew her in the same way the light from the bond-spell had. Cautiously, she walked towards it, realizing as she came closer that it was in the exact center of the room.

It was a table, only it was unlike any table she'd ever seen. Lilly couldn't help but feel it was alive, unknowingly echoing Hermione's sentiment of a few days before. Both the black-and-white of the far end of the table, and the shining gold-and-silver of the near end fascinated her, though the chairs in the middle seemed almost dull to her by contrast. They lacked the simplistic, clean-lined beauty of the far chairs and the intricate workings of the near, but it was something more than that, the feeling that had drawn here here seemed to come from those chairs, and just those chairs. In fact, it came from two chairs specifically.

Fire and light. Odd, that... especially seeing as the two chairs were so exactly opposite, yet the two things so closely related. Just as she made the connection, though, the pull seemed to fade, and the table looked ordinary, or rather non-magical, enough - if no less beautiful.

Shrugging it off, Lilly went to fetch Neville and Peter. Just as she reached the stairway down, however, the two she was looking for topped the steps. They didn't look particularly surprised to see her, though they might just have not noticed her yet, so lost they were in their conversation. Just then, though, Peter proved her wrong, looking past his companion to nod at her.

It was such a small thing, that nod. Just a gesture of acknowledgement, that anyone might use. But coming from Peter...

It had to be the most self-confident thing she'd ever seen him do. Not worshipping someone, not hiding, not running, not stopping his conversation or stuttering over his words. The change was amazing, and it had only been a few hours. A feeling of complete _rightness_ passed over her, then, and made Lilly's mind up for her – she'd bond with Neville. No more questions, no more worrying, at least not about that. This thing, the whole time-travel business, it _had_ to be meant-to-be. She'd not stand in the way of something that was already having such positive effects.

Almost as though sensing her decision, Neville turned to her and smiled brightly.

"We need to be going to the dorms, before someone gets even more suspicious." He said.

"I know." Lilly replied. "In fact, I was just coming down to get you. Or, rather, Peter."

"Actually, we're both going." Peter replied. Then, more to his companion than to Lilly, he added "We have a discussion to finish."

The shock of hearing him speak for himself so firmly nearly overrode the oddness of the sentence, but Lilly sorted herself out in time to ask "Er, why? I mean, won't that complicate things more, when someone sees Neville? In the Gryffindor dorms?"

"Actually, I'm going to Polyjuice myself as one of the other three – I think the best idea would be to go as Remus." Neville said.

"He's quiet enough that no-one should notice a difference in behavior," Peter put in, "and everyone will just assume that James and Sirius got themselves into trouble on their own, and are serving detention or something. It happens all the time, and it's not like they'll mind people thinking that."

Lilly had been shocked enough times that day, that she didn't even bother questioning why Peter, so notoriously horrible in Potions, or Neville, who'd made the mistake in a Potion that had landed he and his friends here, assumed they could correctly use, or even find, such a complicated Potion. She simply nodded. "I suppose we'd better go tell the others, then, and see if Remus will give you a hair."

* * *

A/N: if you didn't read it in my bio, updates are slow because my beta is forcing me to write a new fic. Read there for further details.

2 A/N: if this isn't L/J (it was originally intended to be, but I just got this idea...) would everyone kill me and then stop reading? Or stop reading and then kill me?


	12. For the Asking

Lilly had led the chase for hours, now - searching the castle from the owlery to the great hall. The only place they'd been unwilling to check - sadly, the place they were most likely to find the absent potions genius - were the dungeons. Lilly had wanted to start there, but Hermione had been adamant - risking her being seen, or even Remus being seen - wandering the dungeons would be inviting disaster. And sending Lilly there apparently alone (both Remus and Hermione were hiding under the invisibility cloak) would be inviting an attack. Lilly protested that she often went down to meet Severus for tutoring. And Hermione knew full well - and told her companions- that _meeting _a Slytherin in their dungeons implied the _protection_ of that Slytherin. Going down in search of him un-called-for implied no such thing.

So they'd searched the rest of the castle in the off chance that he'd taken to wandering for the day. It was getting on towards evening, and they'd seen no sight of him. They had, however, discovered something that just might be of equal importance; each other. Hermione being herself had begun, early into their wanderings, chattering on about the history, relevance, or significance of this, that, or the other. She did, after all, have an audience that hadn't heard it all from her before – an opportunity she'd not really had since first year.

She was disappointed when Remus first interrupted her – but only for a moment. Because, unlike Harry or Ron might once have, Remus hadn't interrupted to say he didn't care to know, or that she was speaking over his head, or to tell her she was odd for knowing such things. He had, in fact, interrupted because he already knew what she was telling – and had heard a different view on it. Hermione was stunned into silence for a minute, but only for a minute; she quickly formed an argument for her original statement. The discussion soon evolved into a point-and-counterpoint discussion of wizarding history, and as they both began ranting on the views of wizards towards muggles, magical creatures, and mixes of all sorts, they were _both_ startled to hear a third voice joining the debate.

And so the hours had passed, seeming less like a half-boring-half-strenuous search for someone they doubted they'd soon find but were seeking almost-desperately, and more like a fascinating round-table debate on every topic they could manage to cover. They knew, after all, that they'd find Snape at dinner, and that, despite their current sense of urgency, it was really rather unlikely that anything drastic would happen to Harry or Draco in a few hours. Besides which, Hermione had the utmost confidence that Snape would easily create the counter-potion, and her confidence had rubbed off on both of her new friends. For that was what the three most certainly were, now; friends.

They'd found in each other something they'd always found lacking, however forgivable, in those they were closest to. Remus and Lilly had, of course, met before. Under any other circumstances, however, they wouldnt've been unlikely to really _talk_, the closest they came being prefect duty. Their friends, or, mainly, James, stood between them.

Hermione, for her part, was simply thrilled. There was still the aching sadness of Ron's absence, and she was hardly trying to _replace_ him, but her grief was more… controlled, in the presence of these others. She was thankful for the distraction they were providing, pleased by the chance to speak about her opinions and beliefs to someone who had well-formed ideas of their own. It was almost a shock to find such things in someone her own age, let alone _two_ such someones. It was even more amazing, however much it shouldn't have mattered, to find that sort of companionship with another girl. She was truly, deeply happy that Lilly would be bonding with Neville; that if Hermione were stuck for the next however-so-many years in this timeline, that someone like Lilly would be around to keep her sane. She was also, however, struck by the sharp knowledge that Remus wouldn't be bonding with anyone, and that his curse would likely take him from the realm of life even sooner than most.

Lilly was even more delighted than Hermione about the whole thing. Without the lingering grief that was plaguing the other girl, she was free to simply revel in the newfound companionship. Lilly also, unlike Hermione, had never really had any close friends. The other girls in her dorm were vapish and flitty; rather foolish and stereotypical examples of teenage girls. The males in her generation were, on a whole, little better than the Marauders, whom she thought were unequivocally the worst sort of lazy, boisterous boys.

And Remus? Remus was simply thrilled.

* * *

They were tucked away, back in the common room, waiting for Lilly to return with Severus. Dinner was laid out on the table in front of them, mostly ignored, tucked in between the multitude of books that covered every available surface as they sorted out what they could.

But the thrilling feeling of earlier had faded, replaced by an anxiety that Remus knew all-too-well the source of, and hated it all the more for knowing.

"I have to ask you something." Remus said.

Hermione looked up from her text inquringly.

"Do you care... you know, about me being a ... about what I am?"

"That you're a werewolf?"

Remus flinched. "Yeah. About that." He wasn't quite sure why he asked her that - or if he wanted to know the answer.

"Nope."

Remus stared. "You're kidding." Even James, and Sirius, and Peter had cared when they first found out. Oh, but then -

"I guess you've known for a while, then, huh?"

"Since Third year. Three years, if you're curious. But it didn't bother me then, either, if that's what you're thinking." Hermione said.

Remus was stunned. "I... it... it didn't?"

"Nope."

Remus quirked a half-smile. "You know, I might end up with one of these bonds, you know, and have my older-selfs' memory. No sense in lying, you know."

Hermione turned a tad cold. "I'm not lying. And I wouldn't lie to you, not about something like that. I would never -"

Hermione froze.

"What?" Remus asked. "Remember your /actual/ reaction?" He said bitterly. For a moment, just a moment, he'd thought he found someone who was different. Someone who wouldn't always have that subconcious fear and aversion. Someone with whom he could be just a friend, and not a monster or a pity case; someone who saw him as human.

"No" Hermione's voice was a whisper, but it cut through his musings.

"What, then?"

"It didn't bother me when I found out. Not at all. I swear"

"What were you going to say, then?" Remus' voice was quieter, now.

"I - I was going to say that I'd never hold it against you. But I did, once."

"Yeah. I thought so." He turned away.

"Not like that. Look, this would be so much simpler if you remembered. And I almost wish I could lie, about this. But" Hermione sighed. "It was when we found out about Peter, and about Sirius. We thought Sirius was the one who had betrayed Harry's parents. And you came in, and embraced him - we didn't know what was going on. We thought - no, I thought. I thought, for a minute, that you were in league with him. That I had been wrong in not telling anyone about you - I was the only one that had known, for a year. And, for just that minute, just that one, I held it against you. Held it against you that you were a Werewolf."

"Oh." Remus didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't entirely certain he understood. "Could you, er... I mean, what did you..."

Hermione bit her lip. "Look. There's... I could show you, if you want. You'd see it as me, and know what I felt. If you want, that is."

Remus blinked. He certainly didn't feel any /less/ confused. "Huh?"

Hermione sighed. "It's sort of like a cross between Legillimency and using a pensive, except instead of me looking in your mind you'd see into mine. It's a tad disorienting, but I swear it's not dangerous or anything."

Legilly-what? Remus had no idea what she meant. She wanted him to look into her mind? "Um, I guess..."

"Don't worry, I'll cast the spell. All you have to do is, er... 'allow' it, okay?" Uncharacteristically nervous, Hermione didn't even give him the time to respond. Suddenly she grabbed his hands from his lap, saying '/snemilligel!"

And suddenly, Remus found himself inside her memories. And not just watching, like in a pensive... he was /her/. He felt what she could, even as he felt his own reactions to it. Scenes rushed past, and he felt as though he were in an immense, dark room, watching as images and feelings swirled and crashed in every direction.

As quickly as it had started, the rushing stopped, and he found himself in a place that was, recognizably, the shrieking shack. It was as though time were frozen; no-one was moving. And he was staring at Sirius Black - only he wasn't. The man in front of him bore so very little resemblance to the Sirius he knew, that he wouldn't have even recognized him, if it weren't for Hermione's recognition of the being in front of him. He got the feeling Hermione had stopped things, in order to let him get a feel of where he was, and what was going on. Examining Sirius, he looked wasted, skeletal even; Remus felt Hermione's fear of the man, and he could understand how she believed him a murderer.

And then, it was as though someone pressed the "play" button. Remus watched himself burst through the door, calling the wands of everyone in the room, and embracing Sirius. He felt Hermione's indignation, her pain at having trusted him, and having covered what he was. He felt her defeat, as she "learned" that "everything the wizarding world says about werewolves" was "right". He felt the echoing sadness that they must be right about Muggle-borns as well. He realized that she'd held him - the older him - up as an example, as a role-model; that one didn't have to be what society claimed them. That /she/ didn't have to be a "dirty Mudblood", just because people called her such. Her feelings of betrayal became almost overwhelming, and then he heard her declare his secret. Spitting out the name of what he was like so many had spat "Mudblood" at her. He felt her pain, her own feelings of having betrayed him, even as memory-Hermione tried to squash them.

And then, he was pulling out of the memory. For just a second, he was Hermione. Not dream-Hermione, but present day Hermione, and he knew what she knew, felt as she felt. And suddenly, he knew exactly why she'd wanted him to see that.

She wanted his forgiveness. She felt infinitely guilty about what she'd said, and had never quite had the courage to tell his older self, or to ask for forgiveness. It had, or so she felt, always stood between them. And now, Hermione was feeling that she would never have the chance, feeling the loss of his older self. It was an odd emotion, for Remus, feeling someone grieve in a way for your loss, when you were right there. But she was right, the person that he was in that memory, was someone he now would never become.

So now she was asking his forgiveness, even if he couldn't /quite/ grant it, in place of his older self. His professor-self and Hermione had apparently become fairly close, over the course of the year, and she felt he'd been distant with her in some ways, for a long time after that night. Remus - 14-year-old Remus - couldn't imagine why his older self had been distant. He did know that, whatever it was, it had nothing to do with that moment, or her accusation.

Then he was himself again - simply himself.

He almost couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. She hadn't held it against him. And he'd hardly hold it against her that she'd assumed any and all sorts of horrible things of him in the situation she described - the situation _he'd_ just _lived_.

He hated what he had to say to her, knowing how it would affect her. But he just couldn't bring himself to lie. "I can't forgive you, Hermione."

"Wha - ?" Hermione was speechless for a moment, obviously surprised, but then she composed herself. "I... I understand, Remus. I... I just... I think I need to go. I'm sorry. I really am, you know." Hermione finished in a rush; by the end, her voice had fallen to a whisper. She jumped up from the sofa, turning to dash off.

Remus shot out a hand "Wait."

Hermione didn't even turn back to him, but she stopped.

Gently, Remus continued. "What I meant was, I can't forgive you for him. Because I'm not him, Hermione. Not more than just a bit."

"But you are, Remus. You can't not be - the way you talk, the way you... just the way you are. You might be older, but - "

"But I haven't experienced the very thing you want my forgiveness for, Hermione."

"I - oh. I... I know. I know you're right. I knew, even before. I shouldn't have asked that of you. I was just... hoping, you know." She turned towards him again, and offered a soft, sad smile.

"Don't go yet, Hermione. The point is... what I mean to say is, I can't forgive you. But he did."

There were tears in her eyes by now, but Hermione refused to let them fall. "You can't know that. Just like you can't forgive me."

"Trust me on this, Hermione. I may not be him, but I'd like to think I'd know him better than - well, than most, anyway. And he/I, would never/never/ hold that against you. Not when even my best friends reacted badly, having known me for almost two years. I don't hold it against them, and what you did, what you said - it wasn't even -"

But Remus didn't get a chance to finish, as a brown blur launched itself at him. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"I didn't do anything, you know, Hermione."

She pulled back away to smile at him wetly. "Yeah, you did."

"You had to have suspected how I, or, er, he?" Remus sighed. "You had to have suspected that's what my-his reaction was."

"I did. But I just - with all this, you know? With everything that's happened, I needed to know." She quieted. "What if you do complete a bond, and it turns out you're wrong?"

"Hermione, listen to me. I swear, if I complete the bond, I'll forgive you. For real and truly, alright? It'll be the first thing I say afterwords, and that's a promise."

"How do you know? How can you -"

"Listen to me, Hermione. _He wouldn't have held it against you_."

Hermione stared at him. "I thought you said -"

"I can't forgive you for him, because I'm not him, and I won't be. Not unless I bond, and even then -" Remus broke off, but it was obvious what he would have said. If he were to attempt the bond, it was more likely that he'd die, in the worst case even bringing Harry - if indeed he and Harry were compatable - with him.

"What I mean is, even though I'm not the... the person I became, in your time. Even though I'm not him, I'd like to think certain fundamental bits of me wouldn't change. And I wouldn't hold it against you. He didn't hold it against you. I doubt he even gave it a second thought, after that."

"But you, that is he... was so... distant, after that. It got better, later, but it was like there was always this thing..."

"Trust me, Hermione, it wasn't that. Perhaps you were projecting your feelings, your worries, onto m-, ah, him?"

Hermione sighed. Yes, that was entirely possible. And entirely like her, too, making more of a situation than was there.

"You're right."

"Just trust me, Hermione. I almost hope I get the chance to prove it to you."

Hermione gave him another watery smile, but hugged him again just the same.

Remus smiled at her. "That said, how 'bout we go back to our books?"

Hermione grinned at him, and Remus couldn't help but returning the sentiment. He'd never had anyone who shared his enjoyment of learning and reading to talk with before. When Hermione bounced back to her seat, and tugged a tome up onto her lap that was about half her size, dusty and old enough that James or Sirius would've run screaming for simply having caught sight of it - that even he might have balked at reading it - Remus couldn't help but grinning.

* * *

Lilly felt oddly conspicuous at the Gryffindor table, in the absence of her companions. As though they'd sat and walked by her side all her life, the space around her seemed to be specifically made for them. It was unsettling, to say the least; she'd only spent the morning with them, after all. She prided herself on her cool calculation, purposely kept a distance from most others, but in the course of only a day she'd gotten herself attached to people she knew little about. Still, it was hard to be upset by the lonliness. The comfortable companionship of the morning seemed to settle a sort of fuzzy glow to her emotions.

She reveled in it for a moment, but was brought sharply to earth when she met Severus' eyes. He was quite aware of the change from her normal state, and she flushed when she realized how obvious she'd been. A glint in the Slytherins' eye hinted amusement, and Lilly forced the heat from her cheeks to meet his gaze levelly. Once certain she had his attention, she gestured towards her books, and raised an eyebrow. He cocked his head, studied her a moment, then nodded. She smiled at him... and he retaliated with a smirk, before returning to his dinner.

It was almost a code, between them, though not anything nearly so obvious or definite as what the Marauders used. More a sly game of "guess-what-I'm-inferring", played between two intellectuals who tended to delight more in the subtlety of the game than in actually getting a message across. Tonight's message had been quite simple, though, as Lilly didn't want any chance at confusion. She was, however, amused to note that Severus seemed to know her intentions might not be purely to do with studying, from the way he was watching her. She almost grinned as she realized it had been the very obviousness of the message that had given her away – the simplicity of the message had, obviously (at least to Snape) been hiding something more.

Conscious of his eyes on her, but carefully not looking his way, Lilly gathered her things to her, and proceeded out of the Great Hall. She walked slowly in the direction of the Library, which was high enough up that he could easily catch sight of her on a staircase, even if it were a few minutes before he escaped dinner.

Having accomplished her mission for the present, Lilly felt oddly anxious. There was a great deal that could go wrong in the next space of time, and she certainly hoped Hermione had accounted for it. Spy Severus might be in the future - or in Hermione's past, at any rate - but for now he had not even become the death eater that brought that about.

Lilly jumped when someone tapped her shoulder. Spinning, she realized he'd snuck up on her… again.

The look on his face was almost a smile – for Severus. His eyes sparkled, though whether it was from catching her unawares, or curiosity over whatever she was hiding, Lilly didn't know. Assuming the latter, she offered him a half-mocking, all-knowing smile. "Good evening, Severus"

"Evans." He responded, giving a slight bow of his head.

He still used her last name, even though he'd asked her, long ago, now, to use his first. She, of course, had suggested he use her first name as well, but he'd declined. Somehow, though, where it might have felt a stiff formality from anyone else, from Severus it seemed… almost a gesture of respect.

She held her silence, playing the game, certain that his curiosity would win out over his stubbornness. She knew, somehow, that to win this game would win respect. Respect she'd need, if she planned on convincing him to help.

A moment later, she was proven right. The glitter in his eyes seemed a life force of its' own, seeming an odd mixture of pride, respect, and curiosity. "And what might this be about?"


	13. Odd Associations

All he could think of was the girl across from him. He'd given up studying nearly an hour ago, after an entire evening spent in books, and yet she still read on, oblivious. He could see the emotions drawn out by everything she read, written plainly across her face. They were expressions so intense, he couldn't imagine what could be suggesting them in a _Potions_ book, of all things. And yet – he couldn't imagine her any other way. One lock of curly brown hair continually plagued her, falling out from behind her ear only to be swept back up again. Something in him itched to replace it for her, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so, as it might interrupt her reading. He never thought he'd have a friend who could understand his love for books, let alone one who understood _him_, as well, and didn't hold the Wolf against him.

Remus was broken out of his reverie by an amazingly loud bang – followed shortly by the sound of screaming. By the time he, even with the enhanced reflexes his condition granted him, had looked up to try and figure out what was going on, Hermione was on her feet, wand in hand. Worried at what could have caused such a reaction, Remus' first thought was Death Eaters, but that would be impossible with Hogwarts' wards. Heart in his throat, Remus met her gaze, unable to sort out what was going on.

"That's Harry." She said, half choked whisper, half shout. She paused only a heartbeat, only long enough for them to hear another scream and determine where it was coming from. "And that's Draco." She breathed, and was gone running before he could even think to ask how she knew her friends' screams so well.

He wasn't really sure what good he could do if there really was some kind of attack, but leaving Hermione to face whatever-it-was alone just wouldn't be right, despite her advantage over him where training was concerned. Deciding it was better to think later, and to follow now, Remus ran after her. It didn't take long to catch up, and she shot him a worried half-smile of thanks. It wasn't hard to figure out what the destination was, considering the screams were still coming from Harry's room intermittently. Thanks to both adrenaline and the Wolf, Remus got to the dungeon rooms first. The chaos that met his eyes made it nearly impossible to sort out what was going on.

Feathers fell and floated like a never-ending snowfall from the ceiling, clouding the air, even making it difficult to breathe without swallowing a few. Beyond even what one might expect from a hundred-person pillow fight, it looked more as though the ceiling were pouring forth feathers like snowflakes in a blizzard. It looked nothing like a blizzard, however, nor even a pillow fightj; it was more like the feathered equivalent to Bertie Bott's. The feathers weren't nearly all white; instead, they seemed to be of every color and size imaginable.

And even when he managed to look past the torrent somewhat, Remus couldn't comprehend the situation. Furniture was overturned; cabinets and bookshelves pulled out from walls, chairs on their sides, and random bits of everything-that-had-been-on-a-shelf-or-table scattered about. The couches, turned on their backs across the room from each other, were the closest thing to any sense of order in the place. Not even a hurricane could have made such utter chaos from the formerly tidy room; if there was the least bit of rhyme or reason for where anything had landed, it was beyond his comprehension.

And that was just the physical disaster of the room. Spells of every color shot across the room. Obviously, there were people hiding behind the overturned couches, and firing at each other. But Remus neither recognized the spells, nor could hear an incantation that might give him a hint as to their purpose. They might have been anything from a tickling charm to the blackest magic, and it didn't make him feel a touch better to know that, somewhere in this, the younger version of the savior of the wizarding world was hiding.

Just as he thought this, however, a messy-haired green-eyed head shot up from behind one of the couches for half a second, and half-smirking-half-grinning aimed, wandlessly, another torrent of spells at whomever was behind the other couch. As quick as he had appeared, however, he was gone, and his blonde-headed opponent popped up from behind the opposite couch just in time to be caught by the last spell, and fall back, shrieking with laughter from some sort of tickling spell. Remus could only stare in shock. So long as that was all that was going on here, and despite his amazement at an untrained Harry Potter sending out controlled wandless spells, it was only a bit of over-enthusiasm, and most likely would result in nothing worse than a great deal of cleaning, and a good number of repairing charms.

"_What_ on _EARTH_ is going on in here?" Hermione, apparently, had arrived, and didn't share his view of the situation.

The room fell suddenly silent.

The spells ceased, the shouting and shrieking stopped, and the ruckus of swift movement disappeared. The feathers in the air drifted slowly towards the ground, coating everything in a multi-colored blanket. And as they settled, no more appeared at the ceiling to take their place. Everything went still.

Two boys, both the picture of innocence (if not for the carnage surrounding them), poked their heads up from behind the upturned couches. They glanced towards each other, and then looked back up at Hermione.

"You told us we could do whatever we wanted, so long as we stayed in these rooms." Said a somewhat haughty, though far more petulant and childish Draco.

Remus groaned, and flopped himself against the wall, sliding down until he was sat on the feather-covered floor. However odd and amazing the situation, it was only two foolish boys making idiots of themselves, something with which he'd had a great deal of experience. He suddenly had a great deal more sympathy for the teachers that put up with him and his friends than he'd ever managed before.

"I can't believe the two of you would do this! I said you could do as you pleased, becaue I _trusted _you to _think,_ and not to behave like... like… _children! What_ were you _thinking_?" Hermione continued.

Young Harry got to his feet, but his gaze snapped to the floor. He was obviously shaking, and looked positively terrified. "I-I-I'm s-sorry, Ma'am. I won't ever do it again, I swear, just please, don'… don't be angry… don' … don't hurt Draco, or …" He let the sentence trail off, obviously too afraid to finish it.

Draco crossed the room immediately, and stood beside the frightened Harry. "It isn't your fault, Harry." He turned a glare onto a very surprised Remus and Hermione. "_They_ said it was alright. It's hardly your responsibility if they won't stand by their own words."

Flustered, Hermione snapped back. "I didn't mean to destroy the rooms! It will take hours to clean this, and some of it might be irreparable."

Draco looked at her oddly. "Of course it won't. We're not _infants_ you know. We'll clean it up ourselves."

"And how, exactly, do you expect to accomplish that?" Remus questioned, rather in awe of the destruction that could be wrought by a couple of eleven year olds.

"With Magic, of course." Draco responded, looking as though he thought they must be quite stupid.

Remus, having witnessed Harry's wandless spells, was perfectly content to believe them. Hermione, who hadn't gotten there in time to see them, snorted. "You can't even _do_ any magic. You don't even have _wands _for Merlin's sake!"

"I don't think they believe us." Harry said, quietly, in what was obviously meant to only be heard by his companion. "I told you, we should have made a spell for keeping things quiet."

Draco shook his head, and answered in the same not-quiet-enough whisper. "They're just not being fair. Grownups never think we can do anything. We're just going to have to show them." He reached out a hand to Harry, and both boys simply said, together, "Cleanup."

Hermione stood there, jaw dropped, and in awe.

Every feather, every speck of dust, every misplaced book or bit of bric-a-brac was gone or returned to its proper place. The couches and chair were righted, the carpet was straightened (even as they boys stood on it), the bookcases were replaced in their proper locations. There hadn't even been the hint of things _returning_ to any location. One moment, all had been a disaster, and the next, everything was as though the fight had never been.

In the middle of it all, Harry still regarded the floor, clutching Draco's hand, and looking as though he thought he was about to be punished severely. Draco, on the other hand, was smirking proudly, obviously certain that they couldn't be punished _now_, considering there was nothing to be punished _for_.

Hermione still hadn't moved. Not even an inch. It was doubtful she was even breathing.

Remus couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

* * *

"So you're saying there's _what_?"

Sighing, Lilly responded, "A secret organization of students that needs your help, only they can't reveal themselves until you swear not to reveal them." It had sounded good when she, Remus, and Hermione had planned everything out this morning. The second she'd tried to tell it to Severus, however, it had come out sounding utterly idiotic, and more than a little far-fetched.

They'd been tucked away in this abandoned classroom for over an hour, now, and she really didn't think they were getting anywhere. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell Severus what was going on without telling him more than they could afford for him to know. If he did still become a Death Eater, there was no way they could risk telling him of the existence of the Time Travelers. And Lilly, despite her magical abilities, was fervently wishing Hermione had come with her, to administer a secrecy charm, so that this conversation could be a little more straightforward. Unfortunately, if Severus had spotted an unknown in the room, he wouldn't likely have even stayed to say hello, let alone listen to them, no matter how much he trusted Lilly.

Severus smoothed the surprise from his expression, however, and regarded her evenly. "How powerful an organization?" He asked.

Lilly heaved a sigh of relief; at least he was finally taking her seriously. Still, she wasn't really sure how to respond to his question. Something about the way he'd said it suggested that she needed to measure her words carefully. She thought of saying "very powerful", but she wasn't certain that was the reassurance he needed, and it was only halfway the truth. On the other hand, saying "not really very powerful" wasn't likely to convince_ anyone_ to helplet alone join, a secret organization, and also had the problem of only being half-true. After all, there was a great deal of power in knowing something of the future, and a great amount of magical power in Harry alone, let alone the powers likely to result from the bondings…

In the end, Lilly decided to trust Hermione's judgment, and simply give the answer she'd been told to give. Bracing herself for the outburst she was certain would come, she said, "You'll have to judge that for yourself. I'm only to tell you that, should you choose not to join, you will be permitted to do so, provided you submit to being obliviated of all knowledge of them beyond what I've already told you."

Snape looked surprised for the second time that evening. His eyes went out of focus, then, for a moment, as though weighing every possible meaning of her words carefully, or perhaps seeing a memory. "And if I refuse, that will be the only consequence?" He asked.

Lilly was the one surprised, now. "Yes, of course." Keeping to herself that she rather thought being obliviated was bad enough.

"Powerful, then, but not willing to be forceful." Snape muttered to himself, mostly under his breath. Then, he spoke louder. "But why the secrecy?"

"I can't tell you that." Lilly said, biting her lip.

Something seemed to occur to Severus, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. "This isn't the doing of Potter and his little fan club, is it?" He asked, sharply.

Lilly hesitated. "They are somewhat involved, but no, James is not the cause or the leader of any of this."

He began pacing again, obviously thinking. Then he stopped, and snorted. "They wouldn't find it morally acceptable to obliviate anyone, anyhow, even if they did have the magical prowess to be capable of it." He smiled at her, but it was a self-deprecating smile, as though he were certain he was walking into a trap. "Alright, I'll come with you. But I'll hold you to your word, Evans, that I'll have the right to choose." He stopped, and then frowned. "I want you to give me your word, also, that obliviation is the _only _harm I could come to in this…_ meeting._"

Lilly paused a moment, a thought striking her. It would certainly reassure him, but it was really too risky. And then, with a complicated twirl of her wand, she did something she'd never really thought she would do, and could easily regret for the rest of her life. "I offer you, Severus Snape, the protection of myself and of my kin. I give you my word as a Witch, that no harm shall come to you whilst under my protection. And I _do swear_ that this bond of protection will extend until such a time as you release me from it, or I perish."

Snape merely stared at her, his expression unreadable. Lilly's heart was in her throat, it was no small thing to offer the Wizard's Bond of Protection to another. She knew he was aware what she'd just offered, and what she'd just risked, especially as he never _had _to release her from it. It was surprising, really, that she even knew such a thing; very few other than purebloods were aware of the old wizarding rituals, as they were typically passed down from generation to generation, and never written down. She only knew it because the rituals themselves were often mentioned in texts, if not described, and, curious what they were, she'd eventually pestered McGonagall into teaching them to her. Even her muggle-born status notwithstanding, it was almost unheard of for the bond of protection to be offered in the modern age.

Snape, however, hid his response well, whatever response that might have been. After an eternity that still must have been only seconds, he responded. He brought up his wand, repeated the movement (though much more smoothly, and with a great deal more confidence) and said, "What has been offered is accepted."

Lilly nodded, and made to move, but Severus held up his left hand to halt her, his right continuing the complicated wand pattern in a way she wasn't familiar with, his eyes glittering with a strange intensity as he watched her. "Yours is the burden of protection, and the blessing of my allegiance." He finished, quietly but firmly.

Lilly stood stock still, and didn't move. _That_ had certainly been unexpected.


	14. The Rest of Sunday

A/N: Thanks so much to all my reviewers! Just curious, does anyone think I should do review responses? I will if you guys want.

My Beta had a Baby! cheers I'm all happy for her. As such, unfortunately, this chapter is un-beta'd. You're all stuck with my sucky grammar and rather twisted and pathetic sense of humor.

On the badder side, I'm now beta-less. Is anybody up for it? It's a tough job! You can go for just this story, of for all of 'em. Any applications can be sent straight to ellentanya at hotmail or rheniel at hotmail.

Without further ado:

Chapter 14

Sunday dawned clear and bright for James Potter – not that he was awake to see it. By the time he opened his eyes, it was well into the afternoon, and he and Sirius were the only ones still strewn across the couches of his room. It was a brilliant sort of day, and, after everything that had happened that weekend, he didn't intend to waste it on serious things. Especially considering everything was pretty well settled – at least for the time being.

"Sirius, mate, wake up." He called out, not bothering to move from his spot. The couch was rather squishy, after all.

"Mmmmmph." Sirius groaned.

"Wake _up!_ It's Sunday! We can go fly!" James continued. Finally sitting up. His words were motivating _him_, at any rate; no chance he'd miss out on flying.

"Hummm?" Sirius questioned, opening an eye. "Sunday?"

"Yup! The day the pitch is open to all students! The day we always go flying, after breakfast!"

"Don' tell me you bloody well got me up for breakfast." Sirius grumbled, rolling over to face the back of the couch.

"Siri, it's got to be the middle of the afternoon. I didn't get you up in time for _lunch_, let alone breakfast If we don't get going soon, we'll miss out on flying altogether!" James said, nearly exasperated.

"Really?" Sirius asked, turning over and propping himself up on an elbow. He was already much more awake, at the mention of missing out on flying. "Hmmm. 'Nother hour of sleep, James, or I'll fall off my broom." That said, Sirius flopped back down.

James simply groaned. Of all things, there was _no_ chance he was going to spend _another_ day inside this weekend. The odd dream-like memories of his older self were trying to suggest that he study, or spend the day in conference with Harry and Hermione, or perhaps just with Hermione, trying to sort out the bond. But he was perfectly happy to shove those memories in a box. After all, he might have all the memories of an older person, but he wasn't _old_ – not yet, anyways.

Another part of him, of course, suggested that he delve through those memories to see if he gained any quidditch skill, that he could put to use. A flood of practices and summer clinics assaulted him, as he gained the memories of three more years being Gryffindor house's quidditch star. He'd gotten better, alright. Which, of course, brought a mischievous grin to his face; he might just have to put some of those skills to the test, today.

"How 'bout this, we'll race, and if you win, I have to be nice to Snivellous for a _week_." James declared confidently.

Sirius grinned wickedly. "Deal. And if you win, I'll do all the work for the next prank we pull on him."

James pouted. "That's not much of a punishment, not considering what I offered."

Sirius' grin widened. "There's not much chance you'll lose, either." He said, but then looked confused. "Where's Remus? And why didn't he wake us up?"

* * *

Neville woke first thing in the morning on Sunday, barely after the first rays of light began to fall through his bed-hangings. The day was barely dawning, but, despite his lack of sleep the previous night, he couldn't bring himself to be tired. The possibilities for a day like this one were nearly endless; he and Peter hadn't even gotten around to making plans for the day, but he was pretty sure they'd be spending it together. Even better, his friend seemed to feel exactly the same; Neville could hear the rustling noises of someone awake-but-trying-to-be-quiet.

Considering how badly all this had started, what with exploding potions and evil Snapes and surprise trips to the past and all, everything was going great. In fact, he couldn't even bring himself to be upset that the future he knew was permanently gone. It wasn't like all the people he knew were dead or anything; they'd be born, and live their lives. And, if he had anything to say about it, some of those people's lives would be a great deal better than they'd been the first time around.

They could defeat the Dark Lord in this time, thwart all his attacks, keep his parents sane, keep Harry's parents alive, and generally fix everything that had gone wrong the first time around. Who knew, maybe they could even bring about world peace; after all, they already knew the result of every decision made for the next twenty – odd years.

He wasn't going to change the world all in one day, though; really, most of it would be up to Harry, anyways. At the very least, he couldn't change much while still at school, and even less whilst still in bed. What _could_ be changed, though, and changed immediately, was the life of one Neville Longbottom. Starting right here, and right now, he could be whoever he really felt like being. And he really felt like being himself. Well, himself, but just a little better. A little stronger, a little more brave, and maybe even a great deal happier. First on the list, he was going to befriend a certain herbology-loving Gryffindor.

Poking his head through the curtains, he grinned at Peter, who was standing rather uncertainly as though considering waking him up.

"I'm up." Neville said.

"That's great!" Peter said, excitedly, but then bit his lip, looking even more uncertain, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Nope." Neville said. "No chance I could sleep anymore, on a day like this."

"Oh!" Peter said, his grin returning. "That's… um, great!"

"So, what d'you want to do today?" Neville asked, trying to distract Peter from whatever was bothering him.

"Me?" Peter asked, half-breathless. "What do _I _want to do?"

"Yeah." Neville said. He couldn't really understand why that was such a surprising question.

"I… Well, I'd like to… that is, it'd be good if…" Peter stuttered, then stopped, thinking, and took a deep breath. "Well, honestly, I don't know." Peter said, looking confused and somewhat frustrated for a moment, before he burst into laughter.

"Peter?" Neville questioned. He couldn't really see what was so funny.

Stifling his laughter, though it still showed in his tone, Peter answered. "You see, I've always wanted for James or Sirius or Remus to ask me that. Every single day, every time we've done anything, I've hoped they would just… _ask_ what I wanted, instead of simply expecting me to follow along with whatever they agree on. Even Remus, who only ever wants to study or go to the Library, gets asked now and again." He had to stop a moment, to let out a giggle, before he continued. "Only now someone's finally asked me, and I can't think of a single thing to do!" He erupted once more into laughter, and this time Neville joined him.

* * *

"I wonder where they all went." James said, staring about the common room again. They'd searched the entire … wing, or whatever. All of the little hidden set of rooms had been thoroughly explored. They hadn't even been able to find Draco.

"Well, we couldn't get in to Harry's room, in the basement. Perhaps they're having a meeting in there?" Sirius offered.

It was true, they had been shut out of that room, but… "wouldn't they have left a note, though?" Surely Remus would've, even if Lilly and Hermione weren't accustomed to their sleeping habits. "Maybe Rem thought we wouldn't be up yet?"

"Even _we_ don't sleep in _this_ late." Sirius replied.

"Oh?" James asked, teasing "I seem to remember _someone_ wanting to go back to sleep."

Sirius growled at him, before they both broke out in laughter.

"Okay, so they're all in there." James said. "I guess we should just go play Quidditch. No point in sticking around, you know."

Sirius frowned, uncharacteristically, "You sure that's a good idea?"

"Of course." He grinned.

James wondered where Neville and Peter were. He found himself missing Peter's presence; usually, the presence of the youngest and shyest Marauder went unnoticed, but his absence certainly didn't. Perhaps they'd meet them on the pitch?

"I bet they're already there." Sirius said.

"Huh?" James asked. That was odd, he didn't remember saying anything out loud.

"Of course you spoke out loud. How else could you speak?"

"You heard me?" James asked. This was just too weird.

Sirius stared at him oddly. "… yeah, James, I heard you."

Closing his eyes a moment, James clearly thought _Can you hear this?_

"Of course, James, you're standing right there, you know."

_Sirius!_

"What, James?"

_Watch my face, Sirius. I'm not talking._

"No _way!_" Sirius said. "That's so neat!"

James grinned. _Let's go play some Quidditch!_

"Of course!" Sirius said. But then, he got an oddly thoughtful look on his face. "You sure we shouldn't wait, and tell the others about this?"

"Nah!" James said. "It's not like it's dangerous! I'll just have to keep my thoughts to myself, and keep everyone from hearing what I'm thinking."

* * *

"And then, I fell off my broom, right in front of everybody, and landed on my wrist. Broke it. Had to go straight to the Hospital wing to have it set and mended." Neville finished, laughing along with Peter at the description of his first flight.

"Oh, that tops mine, alright." Peter said. "It was merely embarrassing, not being able to get the broom off the ground like that. The worst thing that resulted from it was four years of ribbing from James and Sirius."

"And Remus." Neville added, smiling.

Peter's smile muted a little. "No, not Remus. Never Remus. He's not like that, you know. He doesn't even realize he's really, in a way, the leader of our group, despite how loud and stubborn James and Sirius are. He never notices how they respect him, how he's the only voice of reason they listen to." Peter sighed. "No, Remus wouldn't tease like that, not unless he knew it didn't bother me, and he knows it does."

Neville gave a hesitant smile. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Hermione's kind of like that, with Ron and Harry, though Harry's not really that bad, even if he is a little full of himself now and again. Thinks he can do everything by himself, and all, and doesn't need any help." Neville's smile faltered. "But I've never really been part of their group, like you are with James and Sirius and Remus. I've always been on the outside, even if they're almost always nice to me. It's… more like pity, you know?"

Peter sighed. "I do know. Sometimes, I don't really feel like _I'm_ part of the group, either. They're all so much smarter than me, and so much better than me at everything."

Neville nodded, kicking his toe against the bleacher seat in front of him. Oddly enough, even given the choice to do anything they pleased, the two had wound up out in the Quidditch stands, watching others fly. It amused them both, as they'd always thought they hated this particular Sunday past time, and had spent most of the other similar occasions wishing they could be doing something else. And yet somehow, it didn't seem like a bad thing, with company. Really, it was more something to do with your eyes, while you spent some time getting to know someone.

"Thought you were good at Herbology, though." Neville finally said, smiling encouragingly at the younger boy "You certainly seemed it the other day."

Peter smiled back. "Yeah, I am, I guess. I just never really thought anything of it before, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. It's not one of those subjects other people tend to pay much attention to, like Charms of Transfiguration. You like potions?" Neville asked.

Peter's mouth twisted into a grimace. "I don't mind them, but I'm terrible. It's got to be my worst subject. Madam Roseforth is head of Slytherin House, and she's positively horrible."

"What is it with potions' masters?" Neville groaned. "Ours was horrible, too. Even head of the same house – maybe it goes with the Potions' Professorship? Anyhow, he let the Slytherins get away with anything in his class. I was always too busy trying to keep them from slipping things into my cauldron, and trying to avoid his attention, to do any good at brewing anything."

"Yeah. Same here."

"But after fourth year, I started studying on my own in the summer. By the time OWLs came around, I was pretty decent – even got an 'O'. Wasn't really that hard, really; if you're good at Herbology, and already know the plants and their reactions to each other, Potions becomes nothing more than following directions."

"Really?" Peter asked, sounding excited. "Do you think you could teach me?"

Neville smiled. "Of course!" His grin widened. "How 'bout, for now, we go take some school brooms and coast around a bit?"

Peter seemed to share his enthusiasm. "Nothing too high, and no tricks, right?"

"No tricks."

* * *

Severus Snape had spent his entire evening, so far, in a room that was nearly beyond imaging, and certainly portrayed a great deal more optimism than he possessed. Who, after all, would be crazy enough to suggest that all the houses could coexist at all, let alone in the sort of peaceful harmony the décor suggested.

Two boys, looking exceedingly determined to keep quiet, were sitting at a table across the room in the Ravenclaw-ish "library" section of the room, playing board games and bursting into childish laughter now and again, before clapping hands over mouths and glancing up guiltily. Snorting aloud, and finding a great deal of amusement in the odd reaction Granger gave him at the sound, he returned his attention to the conversation with her, Lilly, and Lupin.

"So you intend to use a secrecy charm, then? Perhaps _silensus_?" He smirked, doubting the girl even aware of the borderline-dark (though rather weak and elementary, and easy to break) spell he suggested.

"Nothing so quaint as that, Snape." Hermione responded.

"Oh? And you know something better?" He challenged.

"If you are to know anything more," Hermione said, her eyes locked with his, "you will submit to a Secrecy Pact."

Snape drew breath sharply, and gazed straight back at her. These children were playing with fire, and he didn't want to be the one to get burned for it. His eyes glittered dangerously. "And who will hold the dagger, little girl?"

Hermione didn't even blink, instead holding out her right hand, palm up, and whispering "_Finite Incantatem_"

Snape broke the eye contact, then, looking down, and found himself surprised yet again that evening. For this innocent-looking child of light had a dark blue pattern of lines tracing across her palm in a pattern that was obviously for a pact of a much larger scale. A pact like that included the secrecy bond, true, but it included a great many more things, as well. It bound her, magically, to keep the secrets of another; to support, and to protect with her life. It had an odd reciprocal element as well; she was protected, at the least, by the witch or wizard she'd granted the oath to.

It was like the bond Lilly had offered him, except that it was much more inclusive. That, and the bindings were dark magic, blood magic, and not the light magic of a Wizard's Protection Oath. If she went against her oath, her own magic, and even her own blood, would turn against her for her transgression.

Beyond even that, the small scar on the edge of her thumb was of the sort that only developed in one that often cut, for purposes of magic, the same place; it was something he had only seen in his father, though he'd seen them developing in a few of his older peers. Then he noticed that the lines on Hermione's hand emitted a soft glow, as well; whatever bond it was, it was supported, obviously, by a great deal of magic; who knew what else it might mean? What powers it might give the one she'd given control to?

It was, in the end, exactly what he'd needed to see. He was quite certain he could trust people such as this. People who were willing to commit _themselves_ to their cause, and not simply stand back and bid others to do the dirty work. If nothing else, Severus Snape understood the necessity to fight darkness with darkness, all the while trying to keep the evil that hid in it from becoming a part of you. They had power on their side, surely, and they weren't afraid to use the necessary means to protect their own.

And last, and certainly not least, it was rather impressively Slytherin that she kept such knowledge hidden, and that she'd led him into this step-by-step, not giving any information until he'd granted some of his own. These wouldn't be the people blindly running into a slaughter, and he'd never have to follow them into such.

"I will submit to the Secrecy Pact." He said, simply.

Hermione's eyes were hard, he noted, as she summoned a small wooden box from someplace. She didn't look a thing like the innocent child he'd taken her for, at first. She didn't flinch as she removed the silver dagger from its case, nor as she began the steady flow of Latin that was the incantation. She didn't even hesitate as she drew a small amount of her own blood, cutting once more in the place where the scar was, nor as she deftly made the marks required for the Pact upon his arm. _This_ girl, he was sure, would not have hesitated, nor stumbled over, the words or gestures of the Oath Lilly had offered him.

"_Pactum Occultus"_ She finished, and he repeated the words after her. When she was done, his hand briefly glowed, as did hers, and every mark made, unlike those she bore, faded and healed as though they had never been.

Suddenly, though, Hermione flinched, her eyes going out of focus, though it was more like she'd had a pain in her head than her hand.

"Hermione?" Lilly asked. "What is it? What's the matter?"

Hermione's eyes refocused. "It's no big deal." She said. "It's just James – he's been speaking more and more strongly through the link all day, and he's downright _shouting_ his thoughts now, even though he doesn't know he's doing it." She grimaced. "I've been steadily dampening the connection, but every time I do, he gets louder. It's not really a problem, it's just giving me a bit of a headache. I don't like doing it, but I'm going to shut him out entirely."

Severus felt entirely lost, but no-one seemed to expect him to understand.

Hermione turned to the werewolf beside her. "Remus, would you mind going and getting them? I think he and I should talk. He, Sirius, Peter, and Neville are all down on the Pitch."

"Not a problem." Remus responded, immediately getting up to leave. It was rather obvious to Severus that he'd been more-than-a-little unnerved by the blood ritual.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, then, and seemed to concentrate. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. Carefully, she set the suddenly-clean dagger back in the case (which she closed and banished). Then, and quite suddenly, she seemed to return to herself. She was even smiling, if rather business like. "So, now, about why we need your help…"

* * *

"Good, then." Hermione said, as Severus nodded to the last part of her story. "I'm glad you've decided to join us."

"I didn't quite say that." Snape countered, ignoring his hand in an attempt not to look too bothered by the dark magic. "I only said I'm willing to help you, and was, obviously, willing to take the vow of secrecy on your behalf. I certainly said nothing about _joining_ you."

Hermione made a noise that was at least half-grunt. "And why, might I ask, do you see a difference between helping us, and _joining_ us."

"Well, firstly, you've yet to tell me everything, despite the fact that I cannot now reveal the barest fact you do not wish to have known. I do not wish to commit myself to something I have no knowledge of. And secondly, my help in more than just the limited sense of a single project would require more… _compensation_, than simply your gratitude."

"And what, since I might as well ask, would be enough to guarantee your… membership, I suppose would be the word?"

"A guarantee of protection would normally be first, though I already have such," he glanced sidelong at Lilly. "I need power of my own, if I am to accomplish anything. If _I _were to undertake one of these bonds, or at least be given the opportunity to determine if I am compatible, _then, _I would –"

"Hermione!" Neville's shout cut through, interrupting him. "It's James! He was on the pitch, when suddenly he fell right off his broom, must've been from a hundred feet up. Remus got there just in time to slow his fall, and he didn't get hurt, but he won't wake up. The boys are on their way back right now – they sent me on ahead."

Hermione shot from her place, following Neville out the door without even glancing back. Lilly simply stared straight ahead, seemingly debating whether to follow them or to stay.

"Stay, Lilly, they'll be here in a moment." Severus advised.

Lilly, however, went right on staring straight ahead, seeing nothing.

Severus couldn't _quite_ bring himself to feel ignored.


	15. New Understanding

It wasn't exactly blackness.

James had only been "here" – wherever "here" was – for a short while, but he was already quite sure of that. At first, it had seemed like utter, unending darkness, and he'd been a bit afraid of it. And then, after a few minutes, when nothing had happened to him, he'd relaxed, and wondered if he was dead. He found himself surprisingly rational about the idea, considering, though he hoped not, as this place was pretty boring. It was like – like when you close your eyes, and _try_ to see something in the blackness.

"That's a good analogy." Came a voice, sounding oddly familiar, perhaps a little like his father's. "Surprisingly good, actually."

"Um… Hello?" James called out, nervously, to whomever-it-was. He really rather wished he could see.

"But you can." The voice responded.

James was confused, for a moment, before he realized he must have projected his thoughts again.

"No, actually, you didn't. But, yes, I'll stop answering your thoughts. You're quite right - you're not going to be able to sort out a conversation if I don't. And no, that doesn't mean you're easily confused." Came the voice, sounding amused.

James couldn't figure out where to start in his questioning of the other who was here with him. He knew what was foremost in his mind, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know if he was dead or not. Choosing to go back to his first question, he asked, "Er – you said I could see?"

"Of course. And, to answer your other question – I promise it's the last time I'll do it - you're not dead."

Feeling grossly relieved, though still a little frustrated (after all, if this fellow could read his mind, why not just answer all his questions and have done with it?) James repeated, "Lights, please."

Immediately, the darkness turned to light, as though it had simply been awaiting his command.

"H-h- how did I… Did I do that?"

"Yes, you did that. And you did it by determining that you would, for lack of a better explanation."

"I… I what? Where are… Why am I..."

"I do believe I'll count those as questions." The voice seemed almost to be laughing at him. "We're in your mind. You're able to control things here because, frankly, here isn't anywhere, and if it's anything at all, it's a space that only you can manipulate."

Suddenly, a room came into being around them, and James found himself seated on a plain, dark brown leather sofa, in a rather cozy wood-walled room, with a huge stone fireplace taking up the better part of the wall he was facing. On the other side of the couch was a man that did, indeed, resemble James' father. Perhaps forty-some years old, and regarding him with the same level-but-comfortable Potter gaze that James had thought only his father and uncles were capable of.

Then, realizing something, James put in, "I thought you said no-one but me could do anything here?"

The speaker frowned, considering for a moment, and then amended, "For the most part, they can't. Unless, of course, you allow someone else in, or you have insufficient mental barriers and someone is skilled enough in any of the mind-reading or mind-altering skills to influence some part of what is here. But even then, they cannot create or destroy anything here. They can only influence you towards creating or destroying something yourself."

James felt a little overwhelmed. "But then, how is it that there's a room here? Are you an – exception, or something?"

"I'm you, actually." The man said. "Though, yes, there is one exception. Your bonded – that is, Hermione – can influence things here as well. Except for the fact that –"

"Hang on a second, what? How can you be me?" James asked, then held up a hand to think it all through. "Are you the future-me? The one from the bond?"

"Ah –" At this, the older man gave him a look that was rather shifty. "Sort of."

"It's no point lying to me." James said. "Though I never believed Remus when he said I was so obvious."

Older James smiled sadly. "Yes, listen to Remus." He fixed his gaze determinedly upon his younger self. "He will never lead you wrong, James."

"Of course he won't. None of my friends –"

"You know full well that Peter will turn traitor. But don't let it cause you to doubt your other friends. Now and again, Sirius will do something stupid, I'll give you that. But you can _always_ trust Remus, do you hear me?"

"Alright." Younger James replied. He couldn't really think of anything else to say to that. Instead, he changed the topic. "So, you made this room, then?" He asked, curious.

"Of course. You could have made it, as well, but I thought it would save us some time, while you come to an understanding of all this–" He waved his hand expansively, indicating their environment. "Otherwise, it might have taken all day, just to have four walls and a place to sit down."

James Potter the younger blushed furiously. "Hey, now, you're me, you're not allowed to crack jokes about my mental capabilities!" He said defensively.

"Nothing wrong with your capabilities, just your desire to learn. And don't even bother protesting, you know you'd rather be playing Quidditch."

The response to this was a half-hearted shrug, but then the younger James stiffened. "You can't be me." He said, sharp and accusing.

"Oh, and why not?" The other James said, sounding curious.

"Because I died at Nineteen. I can't remember quite all of it, but I know that much."

"That's quite right." The older James got that same, shifty look.

"Out with it."

"Well, I'm not exactly you from the… well, it's not really going to be the future, not anymore, but from – I could say from your new memories, perhaps. And – well, it doesn't really have a great deal to do with the bond."

"So you're me from the real future?"

Another shifty look was the reply, but younger-James would have none of it, and glared at him.

"Oh, alright, fine, I'll tell you, but it's not going to be easy to explain."

"So, who are you?"

"I'm still you."

Younger James snorted. "Right. Because I'm a forty year old man."

"I'm not forty, either."

"Huh?" Was young James' eloquent reply.

"I'm sort of – your spirit, I guess you could say."

"What do you take me for?" Young James demanded. "If you were my spirit, then I'd know the same things you know."

Older-James sighed. "I told you it wouldn't be easy to explain. I'm your spirit, but I'm not inside of the timeline, like you are. Well, actually, I am, for right now, but in - general, I'm not."

The response to this was a very confused look.

"A person's spirit exists outside of time. When you're born, you "enter" the time line, and become subject to its constraints – for the most part. But your spirit still exists outside of this – er… "this". And your spirit doesn't ever change – it's you, that fundamental part of yourself that makes you who you are."

"So… you're saying people don't change?"

"No, that's not it at all. _People_ change, but their spirits don't. Life as you know it is based on time, and time allows different aspects of a person to show separately, by their choices, instead of all of them being seen at once. It breaks things down into events, interactions, that allow for things like "change". But even inside of the timeline, one person, presented with a specific situation, will only make one choice, and, if presented the exact same circumstances again, would make the choice the same way – that's what makes a person an individual, and it's those choices that … define… the spirit itself."

"So Hermione's whole thingy about other dimensions is wrong?"

"Unfortunately, yes, her theory is incorrect. Don't go spoiling it and telling her right away, though. She'll find it out on her own, in a few… in a while. Besides which, she needs to believe that, just now. She's having rather a hard time with leaving everyone and everything behind, as well as with suddenly being the "leader" of your little group. She needs to think that there's a way for it all to go back to normal."

"I don't believe that she's having so hard a time of it. It seems like she's used to bossing everyone around. Granted, Harry's a bit younger, for the moment, but she was telling him what to do, even before he drank that potion."

"She's only used to leading when it comes to things that demand thinking through – which their recent situation most definitely has. In most things, Hermione's used to being lead by my – by, er, "our" son. Even though right now, if Harry were in his right form, she'd be researching, planning and plotting, it would be him that would tell her which plan to actually go with, or what to actually _do_ with this or the other bit of research. She'd have the comfort of _not really_ being in charge, if you see what I'm saying."

"I guess I do." There was a long pause of silence, while young James sorted everything out, filing away this and that. "Still, I don't think you brought me here just for that."

Older James laughed. "Well, actually, I didn't 'bring' you anywhere at all. If you remember, you fell about fifty feet from a broomstick."

"Oh. Er – yeah, I'd forgotten about that. Still, I can't imagine you came to talk to me just to pass the time."

"Mostly, actually, that was the reason." He shrugged. "I also came to teach you a bit about yourself, give you a bit of advice, and give you a bit of help with your new abilities, so you're not unconscious all week."

"You're going to train me how to use them?"

"Oh, no." Older James said, grinning. "That's against the rules – I can't do that. You have to find most of that out on your own. Though –" his grin turned mischievous, "I imagine you'll have a bit of help."

"Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'imagine'? If you're really outside of time, then you already know what's going to happen, don't you?"

"Can't tell you that." Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he added, "Actually, I wasn't supposed to tell you much of what I did, either. I was really just supposed to help you. But" And here he grinned again, "We've never been so good with rules. I _can't_ tell you the future, though. Otherwise, something might change – and then you get a time paradox, and –" James broke off, and snorted. "Just ask Hermione, alright? She'll even enjoy the explaining."

Younger James was willing to take his other-self at his word (or something like that. Referring to himself was getting confusing). Really, though, he'd had enough theory for one day. It was almost as bad as classes. "So, about my new powers…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Of all the idiotic, foolish, idle-minded things to do, I can't believe I–"

"Don't, Hermione. You're not going to get anything accomplished that way." Remus responded, collapsed forward, hands-on-knees, trying to catch his breath, but still panting from the long run carrying James. They'd brought him straight up to James' room, considering it was the only place they could settle him on a couch, where they could keep an eye on him, which still offered some privacy.

"Dumbledore's on his way." Neville cut in, pulling his head from the fireplace. "It'll be fine, Hermione, the Headmaster will sort everything out. You'll see."

"But I should never have shut him out!" Hermione responded, beginning to pace in the space between the three couches and the fireplace, as though these made up the walls of a cage she couldn't wait to be free of.

"'Nuff." Sirius grunted. He was sprawled on the floor, taking great, gasping breaths in an attempt to recover from his run; obviously, a great deal more out-of-breath than Remus, not having the advantage of being a werewolf. "Wha's – wrong - withim?" He squeezed out, between breaths.

Remus would have grinned at his friends' predicament, and his half-breathless sentences, but the situation was entirely too serious – and Hermione's nervous pacing and incoherent ramblings weren't helping any. "Hermione!" Stopping the girl from her pacing, he turned her to face him, forcing her to look him in the eye. "What's wrong with James?"

"Overload." Hermione said, simply, as though that explained it all. Over her shoulder, Remus could see Neville nod as though this made sense, flopping down on the couch opposite James'.

Letting go of the nervous girl, who immediately returned to her pacing, Remus merely stared at Sirius in confusion.

"Overload?" He ventured.

"It means that your young friend has encountered a new ability, and has not yet adjusted to its presence." Came a steady voice from the doorway.

"Professor! Is it permanent? Is he going to be alright?" Peter asked, jumping up.

"James will be just fine, Mr. Pettigrew." Remarked the headmaster, settling himself onto the remaining couch. "We simply have to wait for him to… become accustomed to his new ability. It may take a while for him to sort things out."

Remus breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the normally level-headed Hermione unhinged like that was more than somewhat disconcerting, especially when his friend was at risk.

"I must ask, though." The professor continued, peering over his spectacles. "Why it is Mr. Potter encountered such a situation in the first place."

Hermione froze mid-pace. "I …I… Professor, I, I mean –"

"It was my understanding" Dumbledore continued, in a voice of deep, eternal patience, "that you were aware of the risks of this venture. It was also my understanding that you would be keeping careful eye on the situation."

"I'm sorry." Hermione's voice came out as a whisper. "I just – sir, I don't know what to do, without Harry's advice."

"That is neither here nor there, Miss Granger. You put a young man's life in danger today, needlessly. That action was entirely of your own doing, and you cannot place the blame on any other."

Hermione merely bowed her head, meekly. It seemed as though she believed that assessment entirely. Remus could hardly agree. If this whole thing was anyone's fault, it was James'. James ought to have known better than to go out flying, of all things, in the middle of a life-and-death situation, only barely having completed a blood-magic bonding ceremony the day before.

"I'm afraid you children haven't been taking this bond seriously enough. I expected better, especially of you, Miss Granger. From now on, you will inform me of every potential development with the bonds. I also wish to be present for all of the future bonding ceremonies, until such time as you've proven I can trust you."

All four boys looked taken aback at this news. It was a rare thing for the Headmaster to express disappointment, even when his students got up to a great deal of mischief – as the Marauders were well aware. For him to outright say that he no longer trusted a student … something serious, life threatening or perhaps even worse, must have occurred. Hermione was obviously aware of this, however, as she looked ready to break down and sob.

"Professor." Remus found himself saying. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh? She didn't mean any harm."

"Mr. Lupin, I don't believe you grasp the situation. Should Ms. Granger not have attempted to re-establish her connection with Mr. Potter _exactly_ when she did, not only might he have killed himself, but the mental backwash might well have driven everyone near him to insanity or even their own deaths. No matter her intentions, her actions were irresponsible. In the _very least_, I should have been made aware of a developing telepath within the walls of my school."

The room was silent for a moment, and the voice that broke that silence wasn't one that Remus had expected. "Sir, not to be disrespectful" Neville began, quietly, but with a hint of determination "but is there really anything you could have done about it?"

Dumbledore's gaze focused upon the normally shy boy, and didn't respond immediately, fixing him with a look that was so utterly piercing that most would have looked away without second thought. Surprisingly, Neville merely stared right back. After several moments of such, an expression of vague unbalance flashed across the headmasters' face, though only for an instant, before he spoke again. "The safety of the students within these walls is my responsibility. Placing the lives of those students in the hand of a child –"

Neville looked positively incensed. "She isn't a child, sir. Nor am I. We aren't –"

Remus was shocked when the Headmaster interrupted.

"You aren't capable of handling adult responsibilities, Mr. Longbottom. Nor is she. A barely twelve year old –"

The older man was obviously beginning to lose his temper, even if only slightly, and it was a sight the young werewolf had never thought he'd see.

"She's not twelve, sir. She's sixteen – seventeen or eighteen, actually, if the time-turner she's been carrying around these last few years is taken into account. And she's seen more in her life than most of the adult wizards of this time could claim. Not to mention that we, both of us, have been handling adult responsibilities, as full members of the Order, since the beginning of this summer. And we both, she more than I, have proven competent."

"Whether or not –"

Still not having raised his voice, Neville cut him off again. "I'm not quite finished, sir. While you may know more, and have more experience, in the end, the only one with a telepathic connection to James Potter is Hermione. You were also the one that suggested they perform the bond on their own, and you are the one who has left Hermione to sort all this out by herself. This, when you knew full well she was still dealing with both the strain of losing her entire world, and then the added problem of losing, in most senses, the only friend she still had with her. If you wanted to be involved, it was _your_ responsibility to make that clear, and to be here."

Remus was rather surprised – if this boy was supposedly so much like Peter, such a tirade was simply unbelievable. But what he couldn't stop staring at was Hermione, who, in turn, was staring at Neville. Her mouth was just slightly open – not the dropped jaw of over-emphasized shock, but the slack expression of someone who is truly overwhelmed by the information suddenly presented. Slowly, though, she seemed to pull herself together, her expression becoming a mixture of surprise, pride, and concern.

Dumbledore regarded them each, in turn, quite seriously. "You are correct, Mr. Longbottom. In the end, the only one capable of handling this situation is Ms. Granger."

Hermione breathed a soft sigh of relief – one so soft that Remus was quite sure he was the only one to hear it. Straightening herself, she looked the headmaster in the eye. Remus was surprised to see an odd look flit across her face, of surprise and a vague sense of discomfort, which settled in anger.

Surprisingly, Professor Dumbledore then broke eye contact, his eyes falling instead, then, to the figure on the couch. "Mr. Longbottom is quite correct, Miss Granger. In this case, you are the only one capable of accessing Mr. Potter's thoughts. There is really very little that I can do, here."

Remus found himself disconcerted by whatever Dumbledore had done that was bothering Hermione. He was also rather upset by the fact that the Headmaster was both unwilling to once more meet the girl's gaze, and was seemingly both unable to do anything for James, and perfectly willing to once more leave everything to Hermione. Much as he thought Hermione capable, he did think that Neville had a point about the stress she was under. Although, if Dumbledore couldn't … "If you can't access his thoughts, how do you know he'll be alright, Professor?"

Hermione smiled at him weakly. "Because I'm still alive."


End file.
